A Sort of Homecoming
by Sophie Jane
Summary: Post-"Ghost" and in a blissfully "Conviction"-free world, this story imagines how Olivia Benson and Alex Cabot might find their way back to one another. This was my first attempt at writing fanfiction, and I learned so much from it. See ya next fic!
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** Neither "Law & Order: SVU" nor any of its characters belong to me. As you can see below, if they did, I would do things with them to which NBC would probably object. I'm not making any money from this story, which as it turns out is my first work of fanfic. I hope y'all enjoy it. The show and its characters belong to Dick Wolf, who apparently likes to make fangirls suffer and would never allow the following to transpire on network television.

**NOTE ABOUT RATINGS: **I went with "M", though it's going to vary by chapter. Some will be relatively tame whereas others certainly won't, whether it's because of disturbing scenes involving violence against children or steamy (I think so, anyway) scenes involving some lovin' between two of the hottest women on the planet. That's right, this one's for the A/O lovers.

**TIMEFRAME:** Three years after "Ghost," and happily ignoring the fact that "Conviction" ever happened.

**-1-**

**Central Park, North Meadow**

**Thursday, 6:17 a.m.**

Dean Moyer rounded a curve and finished his jog around Central Park's North Meadow, a ritual he had observed for more than ten years. He reached up and pushed his red hair off his forehead, exhaling slowly as steam from his breath rose into the dark morning. His left foot came down and slid on a stretch of ice that nearly felled him. "Whoa," he said reflexively, though no one heard him apart from his German shepherd, Bertie. The hour was too early and the weather too cold for all but the most dedicated of runners.

Steadying himself, Dean leaned over to catch his breath, and veered from the trail. Placing his knapsack on a nearby bench, he removed a Thermos full of coffee and checked his watch, deciding that he and Bertie had enough time left take on a slightly more aerobic walk up to the nearby ravine.

"C'mon, boy," he said, clapping a couple of times to get the dog's attention. For several minutes, they walked uphill in silence, and Dean allowed himself to relax into the morning, the coffee warming his chest as he drank.

Dean was startled by a low growl emanating from Bertie's suddenly-tense body. Turning to face the dog, he noticed that Bertie's entire body had grown stiff, his tail ramrod straight, his hackles raised. Bertie, who seldom wore an expression other than one of unadulterated joy, was on high alert. Dean stopped walking.

"Somethin' wrong, Buddy?" he asked, cautiously. He ran his eyes over the landscape before him, searching for an unknown danger. Reaching into his sack again, he quietly searched out the can of Mace he'd bought at least four years before, wondering if it was even still useful.

The dog lowered his nose to the ground, sniffing quickly and violently. Walking in small and then wider circles around his owner, he let out a series of quick barks. Finally, the dog took off in a sprint.

"Bertie!" Dean called, exasperated. He had anticipated a mugger; and it appeared as though the old dog had merely given chase to a squirrel or something equally innocuous. "What the hell's gotten into you?" he mumbled, finally seeing the dog about thirty yards in front of him.

As he got closer to the animal, Dean felt his chest constrict as his breathing came to a near stop. Barely visible on the ground was a motionless child, wrapped in a red jacket and lying beneath Bertie's protective gaze.

"Oh my God," Dean said quickly, kneeling before the boy. He had obviously been there long enough for small crystals of ice to form on his lips and long eyelashes. Dean reached out to see if there was a pulse, and feeling none, called out for help although he knew there was no one to hear. It was then that he noticed the ground around the boy's head was damp. Pressing his fingers against the leaves underneath the body, Dean realized that the dampness was blood, which also caked the small child's matted hair.

"Oh God," he repeated, backing up in fear. He felt his heart leap into his chest, and it wasn't until the dog walked over and nuzzled his leg, bringing him back into reality, that he located his cell phone and dialed 911. "Please," he mumbled into the receiver, unsure whether the noises he was making were words, unable to hear himself, overcome by nausea and terror. "I'm near the north ravine at Central Park… there's a dead little boy."

***

**-2-**

**New York Police Department**

**16****th**** Precinct, Manhattan Special Victims Unit**

**Thursday, 7:35 a.m.**

Fifty minutes later, Captain Donald Cragen was debriefing Detectives Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler at the sixteenth precinct. "DB is an unidentified little boy in Central Park," he said, his face registering concern but otherwise impassive. Cragen had been in charge of the NYPD's sex crimes unit for more than a decade, and while his daily exposure to violence had not desensitized him, he always masked his own reactions long enough to develop an investigation. "Munch and Fin are tangled up in Kieran Douglas, so this one's all yours. Sorry about your day off, Olivia."

Benson nodded, a short lock of brown hair falling over her eyes. She had been told to take the day to herself after having worked more than two solid weeks pursuing a serial rapist, but Cragen's emergency call had come half an hour earlier.

"It's okay, Cap," she said, her voice soft. The truth was, Olivia was grateful to be called in. Too much time to herself meant too much time to think, too much time to focus on the past. This weekend, that was the last thing she needed to be doing. "Elliot, let's go."

Gulping down the lukewarm coffee that her partner had brewed entirely too weak for her taste, Olivia grabbed her long brown leather jacket and pulled it over her tight red sweater, wrapping a tobacco-colored scarf around her neck.

As the detectives left the station and got into Elliot's unmarked Pontiac, he studied Olivia's face from his position in the driver's seat. Despite the fact that she'd left work on time the day before, her deep brown eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, as though she had not slept well, or at all. Her face, unarguably beautiful, looked almost harsh in its gauntness. She had lost weight in the last month; he had suspected it and confirmed it this morning when he had helped her into her coat. Her shoulders seemed so slight beneath his hands. The strongest woman he'd ever known, a woman whom he'd never once thought of as frail, seemed to be shrinking before him. Her customary swagger had been replaced with a stooped walk; her bright smile graced her face only rarely.

"How ya feelin', Liv?" Elliot asked gently as he drove toward the park.

The brunette was quiet for a moment, staring out the passenger-side window. "Huh?" she finally replied, rubbing the remnants of her rough sleep from the corners of her brown eyes, realizing that Elliot had addressed her and was waiting on some type of response.

He was quiet, unsure if his honest concern about Olivia's well-being would be interpreted as crossing the unspoken, undrawn line into unjustified nosiness about her personal business.

"Look, maybe it's none of my business, and tell me if it's not," he began, hoping that disclaimer would excuse him if his next question fell on the wrong side of that line. "But are you doin' okay? Something I can help with?"

Olivia glanced at Elliot. He had been her partner for nearly ten years, and Elliot knew her better than anyone else. It would not have done their relationship justice to say that he was a brother to her; nor would it have been accurate to simply call him her best friend. Olivia entrusted her life to Elliot on a daily basis, as he did with her. No other relationship compared.

"You're right," she affirmed, shifting in her seat, sipping the lousy coffee. "I know I've been off my game lately. I'm…" Her voice trailed off as she searched for the words that would express to him what she had been going through. A minute later, she finally said, "This weekend. It's been three years."

He didn't need to ask what she meant.

_It had been three years since Alexandra Cabot, the beautiful and brilliant Assistant District Attorney who had worked with the Special Victims Unit for almost four years, celebrating their victories and sharing their losses, had unexpectedly returned to their world and then once again had been ripped from it. _

_Five years ago, drug lord Cesar Velez ordered Cabot killed for prosecuting a rapist in his employ. Elliot and Olivia were walking Alex home when one of his men fired a bullet into the lawyer's chest. Elliot futilely started to run after the car, and when he turned around, the image before him was heartbreaking. Olivia crouched over Alex's body, cradling her, whispering in her ear. It was Elliot who pulled Olivia away from Alex when the ambulance arrived, who told her that it was okay to stop trying to stop the blood from spilling from the other woman's chest. _

_The feelings that had for so long percolated under the surface of their relationship were finally made wrenchingly clear. Hours later, at the hospital, a doctor solemnly announced that his team had been unable to save Alex. As Olivia realized that she had lost the love of her life before her feelings were expressed, her body collapsed against Elliot's as he tried and failed to find words of assurance._

_Olivia spent that night mourning the woman who had meant something to her that had never been identified until the night she died. Even then, it had never been acknowledged. "I'm in love with you," Olivia whispered into the empty air, wondering if Alex was aware of the confession. _

_The next night, the detectives learned that Alex had survived the shooting, but was being taken into Witness Protection. Though such allowances were typically forbidden, she refused to leave without seeing Olivia. _

_Their farewell was not the private moment they deserved. It was attended by Elliot and a handful of federal agents. They were told that with the exception of the people there, nobody knew or could know that Alexandra Cabot was not dead. Alex sat in the back seat of a dark SUV, her neck hidden beneath a scarf, one arm in a sling against her chest. _

_Olivia stared at Alex, disbelieving. Torn between joy at knowing Alex lived and the torture of knowing that she may never see her again, that Alex was being torn from her life a second time, Olivia could not form words. Finally, she choked out, "Your funeral is tomorrow."_

_Alex tried to calm Olivia, saying that this was her choice, and it was the right thing. Alex's free hand subtly covered Olivia's, her thumb tracing the detective's hand in wordless acknowledgement that the love Olivia felt was understood and returned. _

"_How long?" Olivia asked, hoping that somehow Alex would be able to assure her that a day would certainly come when she could return, when they would be able to finally explore their love for one another._

_Alex was quiet, her blue eyes locked on Olivia. A tear fell down her cheek – it was the first time Olivia had ever seen Alex cry, and it was all she could do not to put her arms around the attorney and kiss the tear from her face. Leaning in, Olivia's lips grazed Alex's cheek, and Alex responded by tightly squeezing Olivia's hand. Olivia looked at Alex's beautiful face, and noted the smallest of nods – all that Alex could give to her before the agents whisked her away to God knew where for God knew how long. _

_When the vehicle was out of sight, Elliot held Olivia steady as violent, wrenching sobs overtook her muscled body. _

_At the request of Alex's mother, Olivia delivered a eulogy at Alex's funeral the next morning. She invoked Alex's courage and lauded her rest easy in her place among the wealthy and well-born. "Alex believed that, from those to whom much is given, much is expected," Olivia eulogized the woman she adored; the woman she knew was alive. _

_In the months that followed, Olivia refused returning to any part of her life outside work. The fact that she and Alex had never been an actual couple hardly seemed to matter. Olivia felt, and the squad treated her as though she was, a grieving widow. _

***

**-3-**

**Central Park, North Meadow**

**Thursday, 8:13 a.m.**

When the detectives arrived at the crime scene, reporters and cameramen were already congregating around the edge of the yellow "Crime Scene" tape placed by the two young cops who had been the first to respond to the emergency call. The cameras rolled on the dead boy and the ruddy-faced jogger who had discovered him, and the reporters' questions were lost in the surrounding noise. Olivia and Elliot walked past the tape. She moved her long leather jacket away from her belt, showing her badge as she addressed the officers. "Have an ID yet?"

The handsome one with curly black hair nodded. "We're getting close. Some folks woke up and found their nine-year-old missing this morning. Based on their description, this could be their son. They'll be at the morgue when the body gets there, see if they can identify him."

Olivia nodded, turning her attention to the small body. She had been present at hundreds of crime scenes and seen dozens of dead children, but her physical response to such horrors had not changed with time. Her stomach still flipped nervously toward her throat, her eyes still tried to focus on something else, anything else. She felt Elliot's presence behind her, and knelt to get a closer look at the boy, willing herself to keep her eyes trained on his lifeless form.

The boy's red jacket was thrust open, his arms stretched open. His face was bruised, this dark hair caked and matted with what Olivia recognized as blood. Her stomach clenched when she saw that his jeans were unzipped.

"Hey, look at this," Elliot said, inspecting the ground around the boy's body.

Olivia stood and walked toward him and saw that was standing over three wooden splinters, light in color and about four to six inches in length.

"There's a few drops of blood on this one," Elliot said, grimacing as he gestured toward one of the splinters with the toe of his boot. "Perp probably used whatever it broke off to beat him, the twisted fuck."

"Let's bag it up as soon as Melinda's done," Olivia said, walking around the body.

Melinda Warner, the medical examiner, had arrived on the scene and was bent over the small corpse, speaking into a hand-held cassette recorder. "Victim is a white male, four feet six inches, approximately ten years old. Weight about seventy pounds." She slipped latex gloves onto her hands and gently lifted his head. "Massive contusions along the parietal and occipital regions. Mandible appears fractured. Nasal cavities show trauma." She paused, and then held up a small tooth. "It appears there was at least one major blow the back of the head, but lacerations and bruising around the face and about the chest area indicates a prolonged beating with several individual blows."

"Can you estimate a time of death?" Elliot asked, wincing.

"It's hard to tell," Warner admitted. "I can tell you the body's been out here in the cold long enough for his body temperature to drop considerably. It's harder to estimate the time of death when you have external factors contributing like that, but my best estimate is three, maybe four hours ago. It's probably a safe assumption that the cause of death was the head trauma. His jaw's broken, and he's missing some teeth. This poor little guy suffered a lot before he went."

"The jeans are-" Olivia started.

"I'll run a rape kit and a tox screen at the lab, get back to you," Warner said, finishing Benson's thought. They had been working together long enough to have fallen into a sort of cryptic rhythm.

Olivia exhaled deeply, taking another long look at the boy. "Christ," she murmured, her tone low. "We'll get back to the precinct. Call us when you know more?"

"Of course," Warner nodded, turning back to the body and opening her medical bag.

***

**-4-**

**New York Police Department**

**16****th**** Precinct, Manhattan Special Victims Unit**

**Thursday, 2:43 p.m.**

Sitting at her desk, Olivia could feel Elliot's presence as he stood behind her, looking over her shoulder.

"If I didn't know better," she said in a low voice, "I'd swear you were putting a hex on me." She turned to face him, one eyebrow raised curiously. "What? You tryin' to sneak a peek at me balancing my checkbook?"

"I'm just worried about you, is all," he said, casually. "Wanna come over for dinner with me and Kathy and the kids?"

Olivia frowned. Elliot was trying a little too hard. "Thanks, El, but I'm okay. I'm a big girl. It's just a hard weekend."

"That's why you shouldn't be alone," he pointed out, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'm not," she pointed out. "My weekend just got a lot busier, unless we can find the child killer this afternoon."

The door to the squad room opened as Detectives John Munch and Odafin Tutuola walked in, carrying brown bags that smelled strongly of burgers and fries. "We come bearing gifts," Munch said grandly, stopping at Elliot's and Olivia's desks to present them with lunch.

"Hey, guys," Olivia greeted them. "How was your trip to Hell's Kitchen?"

Fin rolled his eyes. "Kieran Douglas is one seriously disturbed old dude."

Elliot smirked. "It took two detectives to arrive at that conclusion? We're slipping."

"I dunno if he's disturbed," Munch said sagely, taking a bite. "He views himself as an altruist – after all, who else is gonna feed the pigeons?"

"But why's he gotta do it in a thong? In the middle of winter?" Fin snorted.

"Cut him a break, Fin. He said he had no idea the thong was on backwards until the little girl told him."

"Guess he couldn't feel the breeze on his wrinkly ol' balls, then," Fin mumbled, taking a long drink from his soda.

Olivia rolled her eyes and grinned for the first time that day as Elliot chuckled.

"What's new with you two?" Fin asked, trying to ignore his partner.

"While you were visiting senile exhibitionists, Liv and I were at Central Park looking at a little boy who'd been beaten to death," Elliot answered, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he took the first bite of his burger. His cellular phone vibrated in his pocket. Taking a look at it, he turned to Olivia. "It's Warner."

"Stabler," he said, sitting down at his desk and opening a notepad.

"Elliot," Warner said, "we have a positive ID. The boy is Mason Ferrars, nine-year-old son of a hedge fund manager and former underwear model on the Upper West side. His parents identified the body and were completely cooperative. They've already given me blood and DNA samples that I'll run against Mason's clothing and other items at the scene. I doubt they had anything to do with this, for what it's worth."

Elliot whistled. "What else do you know?"

"I can confirm the cause of death as trauma to the back of the head with a wooden object."

"Wood? So the pieces on the ground…"

"Probably. The lab's still running tests to determine the nature of the object that I think killed him – the source of those splinters. Those results will take at least another day. The contusions indicate the use of a cylindrical object – which came down on his head at a downward angle, the way a person would swing a nightstick or a baseball bat. I found several splinters embedded in the boy's hair and skull, so we'll run tests on those as well as the larger pieces you identified."

"What else?"

"We'll have the results from the rape kit by the end of the day, but the tox screen won't be complete for a couple of days."

"OK," Elliot said, waving Cragen over as the older man stepped out of his office. "Thanks, Doc." He flipped the phone shut, and replaced it in his jacket pocket, relaying the conversation to the others.

***

**-5-**

**Ferrars Residence**

**Upper West Side**

**Thursday, 4:13 p.m.**

Cragen dispatched Elliot and Olivia to the Ferrars' Park Avenue home. The parents proclaimed themselves ready and willing to cooperate in the investigation to catch their son's killer. The media, for their part, seemed ready and willing to turn the case into a spectacle. By the time Olivia and Elliot arrived on the scene, there were already at least a dozen cameras and twice as many reporters with microphones lining the sidewalk in front of the attractive old brownstone.

Elliot pulled into an empty spot half a block from the building, and he and Olivia walked toward the front door quickly with their heads bowed. Neither particularly enjoyed the spotlight, and with the exception of an occasional case, managed to avoid its harsh glare. Still, as they approached the door, several of the reporters noticed their badges – Elliot's worn on the lapel of his overcoat, Olivia's clipped to the black leather belt that also supported her phone and gun.

"It's the police!" someone yelled, and Olivia became suddenly aware of the many cameras trained on her and Elliot.

"Are the parents suspects?" shouted one hysterical-sounding female voice.

"Was it a kidnapping?" asked another.

"Who did it!?!?" several shouted.

Olivia glanced at Elliot, who was looking at his shoes as he bounded up the stairs. Once inside, she sighed. "That's just great. Next time I walk the paparazzi gauntlet, remind me to at least brush my damn hair," she griped.

Elliot shook his head, not going near that one. He pressed the call button for the elevator, and a moment later he and Olivia were on their way to the Ferrars' apartment on the sixth floor. They stepped out of the elevator, and entered a long, marble hallway. Doors on the left and right were labeled "A" and "B." Elliot reached into his pocket to confirm the apartment letter, and knocked on "B."

Moments later, the door was opened by a tall, dark-haired man Olivia placed in his mid-thirties. He wore grey slacks and a cashmere sweater over a white dress shirt. His watch was Cartier.

"Jordan Ferrars?" Elliot said. The man nodded, gesturing to the living room as he opened the door wider. A woman Olivia recognized from an old Calvin Klein billboard sat on the couch, a hand covering her mouth. Olivia understood this reaction; often, it was her presence that made unexpected deaths seem real.

"I'm Detective Elliot Stabler. This is my partner, Olivia Benson," Elliot was saying as Olivia glanced around the room, taking in the expensive and tasteful décor. "We appreciate your meeting with us so soon after learning about your son."

Jordan Ferrars nodded, his voice shaking. "It hasn't really hit me yet," he admitted. "Look, detectives, I don't want to waste any time. What do you need to catch the bastard who killed my son?"

A low moan escaped Paula's throat when her husband mentioned the Mason's murder. "Oh, God…" she said softly, her hands forming a tight grip on the pillow she now held between her hands. "This isn't happening…"

Olivia's heart went out to the woman. She had always been able to empathize with victims' families, but now every time she had to face someone whose loved one had been brutally killed, she identified with them in a way she'd never been able to before. She also felt a rush of guilt. The murder victim in her life had come back to her twice. The first time had just been to say goodbye; and the second hadn't been nearly enough. Still, she had something that Paula Ferrars would never have again – cause to hope.

"Did you notice anything amiss this morning, other than Mason's disappearance?" Olivia asked. "Any signs of a break-in, anything like that?"

"Yes," Jordan Ferrars said quickly. "Let me show you something." He led the detectives into a small library. The walls were decked out in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves built into the walls, boasting expensive-looking volumes on economics and investing. Amidst the family portraits and art prints were several glass cases. Inside of each container sat a different piece of sports memorabilia. One boasted a baseball signed by Whitey Ford, another housed what appeared to be an authentic pin-striped Yankees jersey embroidered with the number 7. Next to it, a case sat empty.

"Someone stole my bat," Jordan said. "But didn't touch anything else."

"Your bat?" Olivia asked, thinking immediately of the object that had probably killed Mason.

"Yeah. One of the bats Joltin' Joe DiMaggio used in his 56-game hitting streak. Not many exist in that condition." Jordan shook his head. "Until this morning I'd have told you that bat was my prized possession. But it doesn't even compare…" He brought his hands to his face, choking up. "I just want my boy back."

"Mr. Ferrars, who had access to the bat?" Elliot asked as Olivia put a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. "It looks like they came in and removed the bat without breaking its container. Had to be someone who knew how to remove it quietly." She paused. "I'm sure the ME explained to you that we suspect the killer used something like a baseball bat to… to do it."

The man shook his head. "We have a boarder. Billy Grant's his name. He's a live-in tutor for our older boy, Chip. But I can tell you he's not mixed up in this. He's been at his other job today – he works as a waiter at Chauncy's while Chip's in school and at baseball practice."

"We'll need the address for Chauncy's," Elliot said, gently.

"Of course. I'll get that for you right now, but again, I think you're going to have to look elsewhere. Billy's not a killer. I'm sure he'll be happy to speak with you himself. I wish he was here right now. We haven't told Chip – he's at school." Jordan grimaced.

"You're going to want to send someone for Chip," Olivia said. "This story's already getting national momentum. He needs to hear it from you and Paula."

Jordan nodded. "Of course. I'll send someone. How else can I help, detectives?"

"We need permission to search your house." Elliot's request was simple.

"You have permission. Just tell me while you're wasting time here, someone else is out looking for this guy," Jordan said, losing patience.

Olivia chose to ignore his words as the byproduct of grief and frustration. She certainly understood those feelings.

"I'd like to start with Billy's room," Elliot said. "Can you lead us there?"

Minutes later, Ellit and Olivia were standing in the Ferrars' guest room. It was sparsely decorated, with a poster showing the periodic table of elements on the wall. Olivia opened his underwear drawer and rifled through piles of t-shirts and socks.

"Whoa," she whistled, her hands finding a small Ziploc bag stashed away beneath his shorts. Pulling it out of the drawer, she looked to Elliot. "Look at this." Inside the bag were several white pill, a small packet of white powder, a lighter and a spoon.

"Billy was into more than your basic high school chemistry," Elliot deadpanned, walking over to his partner for a closer look at the drugs.

Paula Ferrars, who had gotten up from the couch to join her husband and the detectives in Billy's room, looked shocked. "Those can't be Billy's," she said, her tone low. "He wouldn't have brought that into our home. Jordan?"

Her husband looked as though someone had just punched him in the gut. "We had no idea," he sighed. "Still, it doesn't mean he's a child killer."

"No, it doesn't," Elliot said, placing the drugs into an evidence bag marked with his initials. "But he had access to the bat and the boy, and clearly there are a few things about Mr. Grant that you don't know about." He looked at his partner. "Liv, let's get to Chauncy's. Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars, thank you for your cooperation."

"Come back if you need to," Jordan volunteered as the detectives left. "We'll feel better if we're helping."


	2. Chapter 2

**-6-**

**Reyes Residence**

**Williamsburg, Virginia**

**Thursday, 8:03 p.m.**

Thoroughly exhausted, Sarah Reyes sipped hot tea and stretched her slender body across her new sofa, a luxury made possible by her holiday bonus. It wasn't easy making the mortgage on this modest house for the past three years, and her income as an archivist at the Jamestown Museum scarcely kept her eleven-year-old son in new clothes.

A lock of brown hair fell over her eyes, and she pushed it behind her ear. She reached for the thin glasses perched on the coffee table, grateful that one of Miguel's friends was having a birthday party. She could relax and watch all the crummy television she could stand before picking him up in an hour. After workday discussions dominated by budget cuts and dwindling tourism, a couple of hours of solitude was cause for celebration.

She flipped channels at a quick clip. "You're worse than a guy," Miguel had recently teased her. "You don't even look at anything before you switch."

"I find that ten to fifteen seconds is a sufficient investment for deciding whether a program is worth my time," she reasoned, flipping twice more while stating her case. A moment later, she realized her time no longer came at a premium. Her entire life was about passing time.

She settled on CNN, her blue eyes lighting up with a semi-sadistic glee when she saw that it was time for Debbie Lynne Maloney's criminal news show, _In Justice_. She derived intense satisfaction from yelling at the television and taking apart the sweeping conclusions of its host, a former Atlanta prosecutor, and her revolving panel of experts and attorneys. Occasionally, she saw a familiar face from a lifetime ago, when her name was Alexandra Cabot.

As Debbie Lynne's expressionless face filled the screen, the blonde spoke in a thick Southern accent that Alex suspected was about as authentic as her own. "We're in New York City tonight, where the precious little body of a nine-year-old boy was found this morning in Central Park. Apparently, the child's parents are a Wall Street money man and a panty model. Apparently they weren't lookin' too close when he disappeared from his own bed this morning. I don't know about you, but I'm lookin' _real_ close at them right now!"

Alex rolled her eyes. "Let's meet our panel, Debbie Lynne," she mumbled, taking a long sip of tea.

"With me tonight are Josh Halton, an FBI profiler who helps catch child killers." The camera panned to a balding man in a suit at least a size too large for him. "Sue Ann Miller, an Assistant District Attorney from Newport County, Rhode Island." Miller was an attractive redhead in a baby blue pantsuit. She looked scared to death. "And," Debbie finished, the camera focusing on a tall, handsome man wearing an expensive suit and an obnoxious grin, "Trevor Langan, a defense attorney from New York City."

"Oh, _Godddd_," Alex groaned as Trevor's face filled her television screen. "Camera whore," she accused the onscreen image.

She had faced off against Trevor Langan in court more times than she could recall - _I must've repressed the memory_, she thought – and had even gone on one disastrous date with him as a way to make herself feel better after a particularly brutal argument with Olivia.

Alex smiled softly, remembering the dangerous thrill she'd felt when Olivia leaned over her desk, violating all rules of personal space as their voices rose, faces flushed, and throats burned with the harsh words that were the only passion they allowed to pass between them.

_The fights always ended the same way. Olivia storming out of Alex's office with her head held high in righteous indignation. Alex slumping miserably in her chair, jaw set tightly as she watched the detective leave. _

_Alex had been convinced that her sex drive died somewhere between college graduation and her swearing-in ceremony. Her lack of interest in romance certainly didn't spring from lack of opportunity. Alex Cabot's devastating combination of looks, style, intelligence and money had a palpable effect on the people around her. She had pretended not to notice it for so long that she had almost succeeded in becoming oblivious to the attention. _

_Still, not even she could deny the way the detective had begun looking at her midway through their second year of working together. Olivia wanted her; and much to her surprise, Alex found that she wanted the detective as well. _

_Alex's pulse would race when Olivia bounded into her office propelled by a confident strut unlike anything Alex had ever seen. She would arrive wrapped in tight jeans, a belt weighed down by her gun and badge, a sweater that fit like a second skin underneath a flowing leather coat that accented the sway of her hips. She'd be hell-bent on cornering Alex into a needless fight about a warrant or some other imagined crisis, any excuse for a fight. Too aroused to speak, Alex would just sit impassively behind her desk, trying like hell to preserve her composure while she came apart inside._

_It became impossible for Alex to find any release for the tension the sexy detective sent coursing through her body, other than bringing herself to orgasm. The first time she'd felt the desire to masturbate in years, she had been unnerved to realize it was Olivia's face she imagined looking at her, Olivia's body she sensed moving against hers, Olivia's voice she longed to hear whispering in her ears, gasping her name. The next morning, she noticed that Olivia had trouble looking her in the eye, and she wondered where the detective had been putting her own nervous energy. _

_Finally, it had become too much to handle, and after an especially emotional clash with Olivia, Alex called Trevor Langan. The defense attorney had been less than subtle about his attraction to Alex. She told him that, despite having declined his earlier offer, she _was_ free for dinner after all. She met Langan at a restaurant known for its prices more than its food wearing a revealing red dress and feeling somewhat like a twit for having spent so much time and effort on this smug bastard. The feeling only intensified when, to her horror, Alex saw Elliot and Olivia enter the restaurant, clearly looking for her. Olivia was still wearing the clothes she'd had on that morning when she'd left Alex staring at her retreating backside. _

_The detectives unceremoniously walked over to her table, looking out of place in the elegant restaurant. While Elliot seemed at least halfway apologetic about the intrusion, Olivia merely glared, her brown eyes narrowed and shooting accusing daggers through both Alex and Trevor. When the detectives turned to leave, Alex thought she heard Olivia mutter something about "dining with the enemy." _

_"How do you work with that bitch?" Trevor had asked, looking down his nose at the detectives as they left. "What kind of a woman wants to live sex crimes twenty-four seven?"_

_Angry and embarrassed, Alex had simply looked at Trevor and said, "This was a bad idea. I'm calling it a night." Without waiting for his response, she left her date at the restaurant before finishing her meal. He hadn't bothered to try changing her mind. _

Now, sitting in a living room in Williamsburg, Virginia, Alex watched Trevor Langan wax philosophical on a case with which he was, so far as she knew, not involved.

"Mr. Langan, would you take this case? Would you defend these parents?" Debbie Lynn inquired.

"Well Debbie," he said with a fake little chuckle, "let's remember that the parents, the Ferrarses, are a very respected couple, and they haven't been accused of anything yet. They're apparently being cooperative with the police. Sure, I'd take their case." He looked at the camera and his grin grew a little broader. Alex shook her head, knowing that if the parents were watching, Trevor would likely be getting a phone call from them in the morning.

"Well, they say they're cooperatin'," Debbie Lynne responded, unwilling to let go of her "the parents always did it" theory. "But the police have already been over to their house, so you can't tell me they're not lookin' at the parents as the perpetrators."

"Oh, come on," Alex rolled her eyes.

As she spoke, footage taken earlier that day outside the Ferrars' brownstone rolled on the program. At first, the television just showed the crowd of media outside the building, then a glimpse of a man and woman walking quickly toward the front door. "As we hear it, those are detectives from the sex crimes department," Debbie Lynne explained. "Going to see the parents this afternoon to see exactly what they're not tellin' anybody."

As the detectives moved closer to the cameras and more clearly into focus, Alex's fingers closed over the mug she held tighter. She recognized Elliot immediately. Then he'd moved out of the frame, and she saw Olivia.

The hair was a little longer, the face a little more drawn, but the strut was there in full force, the leather jacket still sexy as hell. Alex sat up and leaned closer to the television, immediately freezing the picture, grateful she had allowed Miguel to talk her into the DVR. She walked toward the television and pressed her hand against the slightly fuzzy image of Olivia's face.

"Liv," she whispered, feeling a tear fall onto her cheek. Looking at Olivia's serious expression, Alex realized that since the boy's body was found in Central Park, this would have been _her_ case. She and Olivia would probably be in her office at this very moment, arguing about whether probable cause existed for a warrant to search the home. Alex stayed in front of the television for several moments, finally returning to the sofa to watch the rest of the story about the Ferrars boy, distraught that there were no more images of the beautiful detective.

She found the image of Olivia again, and sat staring at it for several long moments before her cell phone's alarm sounded, letting her know that it was time to retrieve Miguel from the birthday party. Turning the television off, closing the image of Olivia's beautiful face, physically pained Alex. She walked into the cool night air, and climbed into her silver Honda sedan – a sensible car, the kind of car a single mom would drive in Williamsburg. It was a far cry from the sleek SL8 she'd owned and hardly ever driven in New York. Money had never been an object to Alex Cabot.

Minutes later, Miguel stumbled into the car, a bright smile on his friendly face. Alex's heart swelled as she leaned across the front seat to place a soft kiss on his forehead. "Have a good time?" she asked, glad to see his affirming nod. "Good. I'm glad you're making friends here."

"Me too," he said, still smiling. It hadn't been easy or immediate for him to befriend other kids his age. In many ways, Miguel's entire existence was a lie, and he had a hard time learning to relate to other children when he wasn't sure when he was allowed to tell the truth and when he was supposed to stick to the story Agent Hammond and Alex had given him.

_Three years before, Miguel's name had been Antonio. Liam Connors, the man who had shot Alex Cabot, also shot Antonio and killed his parents. Alex and Antonio met while testifying in Connors' trial, and bonded immediately. _

_Although Alex had never really spent much time with children, except for the victims of terrible crimes, the decision to adopt Antonio had felt completely natural. When she learned that his only alternative was foster care, she insisted that he come to live with her. She had seen too many lives ruined when good kids were swallowed by the system, and knew she could never face herself if she hadn't done everything possible to keep that from happening to the little boy who'd help put her would-be killer away. _

_"I have no idea what I'm doing," she apologized to him on one of their first nights in their new home. "I've never really thought about whether I'd ever be a mom. But maybe we can figure it all out together?"_

_With trust and a heart far more open than any child who had just lost both parents could be expected to possess, he had nodded at her. "Okay." _

_In the three years that followed, Alex became convinced that the decision to adopt Antonio was one of the smartest she'd ever made. He was a remarkably mature boy, and his conversation was more interesting than that of most adults. He had also become something she'd never had – a person who knew her real name, who understood what it was like to be torn apart from everything and everyone you've ever known and have to pretend to be someone else. He was also living proof that her one trip back to New York, the only time she'd been home since the shooting, the most precious memory of her life, was real. _

***

**-7-**

**New York City**

**2/22/05**

**(Three Years Ago)**

Alex was in Wisconsin, almost completely settled into her life as Emily Watson, insurance office assistant, when the knock she'd been praying to hear for eighteen months finally came. When she opened the door to see Agent Hammond standing next to Captain Don Cragen, who hadn't even known she was alive when she left New York, she felt certain that she was going home. "What happened?" she blurted, wanting desperately to be told that Velez was captured or dead, that she could come back for good.

The news hadn't been that wonderful. Velez was still on the loose, but the man who had tried to kill her had murdered two more people and wounded their young son. To complicate matters further, Benson and Stabler had been more or less cornered into arresting Connors for Alex's murder, although, as Cragen had learned after the fact, they were both aware at the time of the arrest that no such murder had actually taken place.

Just as the choice to leave New York had been hers, so was the choice to return.

Alex never had the chance to tell Olivia, or anyone else, that she was coming back to testify at Connors' trial. Instead, she had flown back with Hammond and Cragen that day, leaving the life she had been establishing for the previous year and a half behind. The thought that having to start over a second time might break her didn't even occur to Alex. This was a chance to put her would-be killer in prison, and she had to stand up to him in the way she had always encouraged other victims to stand up to their attackers. More than that, though, Alex wanted to see Olivia. She had spent nearly two years replaying every tender moment of their last time seeing one another, recalling the way Olivia had looked at her, the way Olivia's hand had felt under her thumb, the softness of Olivia's lips on her cheek and the sound of Olivia's voice. She had to know, had to be sure, that Olivia loved her as much as she imagined.

On the flight, Alex had drifted from one state of consciousness to another, trying to devote her attention to Cragen and Hammond. Don asked Alex about the life she'd had in Wisconsin, marveling at the fact that Benson and Stabler had managed to keep the secret of her survival all this time. Alex, however, had spent a good deal of time just looking out the airplane window, trying to think of exactly what to say to Olivia when she saw her. How could she begin to put everything she'd felt for the past two years into words? She realized that, unlike her, Olivia hadn't been on her own. She was still an SVU detective; still Elliot's partner; still lived in the same apartment, probably. Had those circumstances allowed her to become as lonely as Alex had been, to miss her as badly as Alex had longed for Olivia's presence?

_I need you_, Alex thought. _I don't even know how to be me without you anymore. I need you watching me, encouraging me, fighting with me for no good reason. I need you to hold me, love me, make everything all right again. _

As it turned out, Alex did not have the chance to share these thoughts with Olivia upon seeing her. Immediately after landing at the airport, Cragen and Hammond had whisked Alex over to the precinct. Unaware that she wanted to see Olivia privately – _And how would they have known?_ Alex realized – they had led her directly into an office where the four SVU detectives with whom Alex had shared so much were huddled together, discussing the fact that Elliot and Olivia were both in danger of losing their badges because of the Connors arrest.

"A-Alex," Olivia stammered as she turned and looked directly into the blue eyes that had haunted her for eighteen months.

Alex's breath caught in her throat when she looked into Olivia's coffee-colored eyes, warm and vulnerable. She felt her mouth twitch into a tiny grin, unable to acknowledge Elliot, John, or Fin. She only had eyes for Olivia, although she couldn't say anything she wanted to. Instead, she did what was safe, returning to the old habit of bickering. "Well," she teased, "who else was gonna get you out of trouble?"

Olivia continued to stare, unblinking and apparently disbelieving, as the men applauded Alex's return. Alex never took her eyes off the detective, and recognized the necklace that Olivia wore as one of her own. Her heart warmed, and she finally stepped forward to embrace Olivia, and the other detectives, in a welcoming hug.

Olivia was the first to break the group embrace, coughing loudly and taking a few steps back. Alex looked at her curiously, watching as the detective's back stiffened. A few moments before, the women hadn't been able to look away from one another. Now, Olivia seemed to be looking everywhere else in the room but at Alex, who didn't understand the sudden change in Olivia's body language. What she wanted more than anything was to take Olivia by the hand, pull her into an empty room, and kiss her.

_Why didn't I know she was going to come home?_ Olivia thought, a little angrily. _I find out with everyone else? _She miserably wondered whether she had misread all of the signals that night a year and a half ago. Maybe Alex had just been caught up in the emotion of leaving New York. Maybe Alex had moved on; found someone else. She couldn't expect a woman like Alex to remain single for long, not without a job to occupy all of her waking hours.

_Maybe I just look like hell_, she thought. She had been awake for more than 36 hours, having not slept a minute since Casey had made it impossible for her and Elliot _not_ to arrest Liam Connors for Alex's "murder." Her hair was a mess, she needed to brush her teeth, and her clothes were probably a little funky. This was _not_ the way she'd imagined seeing Alex again after all this time. She'd had a thousand fantasies involving the ADA's return, most of them involving herself single-handedly bringing down the Velez cartel and going to rescue Alex from wherever the hell she was living. Not one of those fantasies ever involved Alex coming back to New York and discovering her looking and feeling so defeated.

Just as quickly as Alex had returned, she was gone, ushered away by Hammond and Cragen. Olivia felt the eyes of her colleagues turn to her as soon as Alex left, and her head began swimming. Absent-mindedly, her fingers caressed the teardrop diamond necklace that Julianne Cabot had given to her as a gift for the eulogy she'd delivered at Alex's funeral.

"Liv, Alex is back," Elliot stated the obvious. "Why aren't you smiling?"

Olivia shook her head, and as tears stung her eyes, she grabbed her jacket and slung it over her shoulder, heading for the squad room door, not looking back to see the men she'd left behind watching her in disbelief.


	3. Chapter 3

**-8-**

**New York Police Department**

**16****th**** Precinct, Manhattan Special Victims Unit**

**Friday, 9:30 a.m.**

Olivia and Munch were discussing the dead end that Chauncy's had been when her phone rang with Melinda Warner's confirmation that Mason Ferrars had been raped, a semen sample was taken from the boy's pants. "The splinters in Mason's hair matched the larger pieces Elliot picked up off the ground. They're white ash, which leads me to believe they came from a baseball bat. The majors stopped using ash in the early '60s, when they switched to maple. You can probably still find ash bats, but they wouldn't be cheap."

Olivia immediately remembered Jordan Ferrars' missing bat. "How about the tox screen?"

"Patience, Detective Benson. What do you think this is, _CSI_?" Warner retorted. "I'll let you know as soon as we have results."

"Thanks, Melinda." She hung up and turned to Munch and filled him in, then returned to Chauncy's. "Billy Grant's boss says he flaked about a month ago. Hasn't seen him in weeks."

"And let me guess – Jordan and Paula are shocked."

"Yep," Olivia said. "Didn't know about the drug use. Didn't know he hasn't been working during days lately. There's a lot about Billy that they don't know, such as where he is."

"When's the last time they saw Billy?" Munch asked.

"Two nights ago – before Mason disappeared. He was at home studying with Chip until eight, when he told them he was meeting a friend for a movie. They didn't hear him come back, but his room is on the opposite side of the apartment. Apparently it's not unusual for him to come and go without being heard. It's a weird arrangement, and Elliot and I are going to stop by today to find out more. I also want to talk to Chip about Billy."

"I'll hop on the computer, see what I can find out," Munch volunteered. "Maybe Billy Grant has a record of some sort."

***

**-9-**

**Chauncy's Restaurant**

**Friday, 1:30 p.m.**

Olivia and Elliot decided to stop at Billy Grant's former workplace before returning to the apartment to talk to Chip. Although Billy hadn't been there for some time, they were confident another employee would know where they could look for him.

"Ready to order?" a young blonde waitress asked them. "Or you need a minute?"

The detectives ordered, and Elliot casually asked, "So, did you know Billy Grant? Used to work here?"

"Know him? Yeah," she said, cautiously, frowning.

"Know why he stopped coming to work?" Olivia asked, interested.

"I don't know," the girl stammered, obviously uncomfortable that she'd already said too much. "I know he worked for that family that's been on the news, with the dead kid and all."

"Come on, Stacey," Elliot encouraged her, reading her nametag. "We'd like to talk to him. Do you think he has anything to do with that little boy's death?"

"No," she shook her head, upset. "Billy has issues, but he's not violent. He's definitely not the kind of person who could do that to a kid."

"What kind of issues does Billy have?" Olivia asked.

"Look, I care about him," she said evasively.

Elliot nodded. "Then the best thing you can do for him is help us find him so we can clear him as a suspect."

"He had a messed up childhood, he's protective of kids. He doesn't hurt them." She stopped, realizing that the police officers were still looking at her closely, waiting for her to give them something else. "He has a drug problem," Stacey finally said. "It's one of the reasons we stopped dating, if you wanna know the truth."

"How bad is Billy's drug problem?" Olivia asked.

"Getting worse," Stacey said, looking genuinely worried. "Look, I gotta get back to work. But you wanna find him? If he's upset, he's using. This is where you go look for him. It's a nightclub in Manhattan Valley." She scribbled an address on a napkin and passed it to Elliot. "If he's not there, just ask around. All the people he uses with hang out there. It's where they buy that sh- that stuff." She looked away from them, visibly shaken. "I think he's selling now. Please don't tell him you got this information from me."

Elliot nodded his thanks as he glanced at the napkin and passed it to Olivia.

While the detectives waited on their lunch, Olivia filled Elliot in on Munch's research. "Billy has a kind of checkered past," she said. "Parents in and out of jail for drugs. In foster care at eight years old. One of his foster fathers abused him – Liz Donnelly put that guy in jail herself about fifteen years ago."

"Sexual abuse is cyclical," Elliot said, thinking out loud. "If Billy was molested as a kid, it's not that unusual that he's doing the same thing with Mason."

"Well, if it was Billy, this probably wasn't the first time he preyed on Mason," Olivia pointed out. "We'll need to look at Mason's medical records, see if his doctors have ever noticed any signs and symptoms of abuse."

"Anything else?"

"Only stain on his record is an underage drinking charge when he was nineteen, seven years ago. Other than that he's clean."

"As far as we know," Elliot corrected her. "If there were possession charges in his teens, we wouldn't be seeing that. Still, a drug problem isn't exactly a gateway to raping and killing a child," Elliot acknowledged.

"Where's that address, anyway?" Olivia said, cocking one eyebrow as she tried to read the napkin Stacey had handed Elliot.

"107th Street. Got plans tonight?"

"We're going to a club?" Olivia asked, feigning enthusiasm.

"Looks like it," he smirked.

"Yay," she said with an eye roll. "I love going undercover, trying to fit in at a club full of twenty-two-year-olds."

"Even when I _was_ twenty-two, I looked like a cop," Elliot admitted with a grin.

"I'm sure you did," she agreed with a small smile.

"Liv, how are you?" he asked, his tone gentle. "Do you… you wanna talk about her, or something?"

Olivia shook her head quickly. "No," she said in a small voice. "It's just hard not knowing." She was silent for a minute, and he allowed her to be. Finally, words started pouring out of her mouth and she realized that maybe she really did want to talk about Alex after all. "I stay up at night, just wondering where she is. What she's called. What she does with her time." She looked away from Elliot's careful gaze. "Elliot, what if Velez finds Alex before we find him? What if he's _already_ found her? She could be… could be dead. And we would never know."

Elliot took a deep breath and shook his head. "She'll be back, Liv. I can't explain how I know it, but I do."

Olivia looked back at him and nodded. "Thanks, El," she said, coughing to break up the intensity of the moment. "I don't even know what the DEA is doing to find Velez."

"He's hiding in some jungle in Colombia," Elliot ventured a guess. "But he can only hide for so long, Liv. Eventually everyone gets caught, or gets killed. And he's not a young man. This vendetta's personal. One day Velez will be gone, Alex will be back, and you'll live happily ever after." He shook his head slowly. "God knows you deserve it after all this."

***

**-10-**

**The Palace Nightclub**

**Saturday**

**2:17 a.m.**

The Palace was an old nightclub in Manhattan Valley, an area that, although surrounded by high-priced real estate, was becoming known for a growing drug presence. Olivia had been right that she was a bit older than the club's target demographic, but as she moved through the darkened dance floor in tight red leather pants and a snug black tank top, she attracted plenty of attention.

"I don't know how I'm gonna ID Grant even if he's in here," she said under her breath, hoping that Elliot and Fin could hear her voice in their earpieces over the loud music.

"There's a lot of congregatin' by the men's room next to the deejay booth," Fin noticed. "I'm gonna check it out."

A few minutes later, Olivia felt someone bump into her and turned to face an attractive girl with red hair. She was beautiful, but her green eyes were glassy. Instead of excusing herself, she pressed in closer to Olivia. "You here alone?" she asked, huskily.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. It occurred to her that the girl likely knew the other users in the club. "I am," Olivia said slowly. "But that could change."

"Woo," Elliot teased, having heard the entire exchange. "Way to play it!"

If it wouldn't have blown her cover, Olivia would have told him to kiss her ass, and he likely would have made a remark about being happy to oblige while she was wearing the leather pants. As it was, she took the woman by the hand and led her to the floor, where they began to dance sensuously. Her dance partner's body touched hers in all the places Olivia hadn't been touched in three years, and Olivia had to close her eyes and remind herself where she was, what she was doing.

"You wanna roll?" the girl asked, enticingly.

"Tell her yeah," Fin said quickly. "Means she's gonna try to score some E, might lead you to Billy. I gotta feelin' he's in here."

"Where's here, Fin?" Elliot jumped in, and Olivia noticed him standing by the deejay booth, not talking to anyone and utterly failing to blend in.

"Men's room. I've seen four dudes go into the third stall and come out without a flush. Waitin' my turn. How much you bet I find a dealer conductin' business from the john?"

"Show me," Olivia replied with a wild grin, looking at the redhead. The girl nodded and led Olivia by the hand to the men's room, confirming Fin's suspicions.

Olivia and Fin caught one another's eye as the door to the second stall opened, and the guys behind Fin eyed him curiously. "You go ahead," he said to the next one. "I'm waitin' on door number three." The kid gave him a knowing smile and passed him in line.

"We're waiting on door number three, too," Red whispered in Olivia's ear.

Finally, the door opened, and Fin walked in. Olivia heard his next words in her earpiece. "Billy Grant? Detective Tutuola, NYPD. Let's go back to my place."

Olivia moved away from the girl and toward the stall as Elliot entered the bathroom. Seconds later, Fin shuffled out of the bathroom with his hand on Grant's back, guiding him toward Elliot, who snapped a pair of handcuffs on him.

"Mr. Grant," Fin said as they walked out of the club. "You're under arrest for possession of controlled substances with intent to distribute…" The redhead looked at Olivia with disbelief, and Olivia shrugged. The girl should be happy she wasn't going to be arrested. The detectives walked behind Grant as he resignedly made his way to the squad car parked two blocks away.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the police station, where Elliot and Olivia moved Billy into an interrogation room. "We want to talk to you about Mason Ferrars," Elliot said, his tone sharp. "But then, that's no surprise to you. Where the hell you been for the last couple of days?"

"You saw it," Billy said, feigning an attitude. He was a good-looking guy with short brown hair and red-rimmed brown eyes.

"You've been at the Palace since Wednesday night?" Olivia asked, incredulously. "Bullshit."

"Level with us," Elliot cautioned. "Because right now you're the only person who had access to Mason and the murder weapon, and we know you've lied about your second job and the drugs. We have a semen sample from Mason's clothes. If we match it to you, you got much bigger problems than a couple of drug charges."

Grant's eyes widened. "Semen? You mean Mason was… oh, God," he looked genuinely horrified.

"Oh, come on," Elliot said, contempt dripping off his tongue. "Don't act surprised. You know he was raped. You did it!"

"I didn't do anything like-"

"You stole Mason out of his bed, you took him to Central Park, you raped him and then you beat him to death with his father's baseball bat. You left him out there to die," Olivia accused, her dark eyes glinting black and piercing through him.

"No, no I didn't." He looked terrified.

"Then who did?" Elliot asked. "Who else has access to that bat? The parents couldn't wait to give us blood and DNA samples. Dad's not a match for the semen. You gonna do the same? 'Cause so far you've been hiding. Why haven't you gone home, Billy?"

Grant shook his head. "I didn't do anything."

"So, prove it," Olivia said. "If it turns out you didn't do anything to hurt Mason Ferrars, _and _if you cooperate with us and tell us who did, we can probably ask the DA to drop the distribution charge. You won't do any time on simple possession."

"I'll take your tests," Grant agreed. "But I can't give you any information, because I don't know anything." Olivia noticed the pulse point on his throat beating rapidly.

Olivia checked her watch. It was almost four in the morning. "Someone will take you to the lab in the morning. You'll see us in a few hours, and hopefully you'll have reconsidered whether you feel like talking."

**-11-**

**New York City**

**2/22/05**

**(Three Years Ago)**

Elliot rolled the dice, clapping as he beat her for the third game in a row.

"You win," Alex admitted, irritated. "Next game, your ass is mine." She exhaled slowly, trying to focus on Elliot and not his absent partner.

It would have been an understatement to say that they had not always worked well together. They had probably had more bad moments than good. Alex Cabot was a hell of a prosecutor, he'd give her that – but she was also, without a doubt, one of the most unapologetically arrogant people he had ever met. Beyond the admittedly extraordinary physical, he'd never really understood what Olivia found so bewitching about the blonde. Sure intelligence was great, but when it came along with Alex's verbal swordfights and seemingly humorless way of viewing the world?

Tonight, though, Elliot got it. Alex wasn't simply the Ice Princess he'd figured her to be – she could be tender and even vulnerable. He wondered when Olivia had first figured that out, and felt embarrassed that it had taken him this long.

"You're going to do great tomorrow," he said, trying to encourage her. He offered a sympathetic smile.

She continued to stare at the wall, not meeting his eyes. After a moment of silence, she said, "When I was a prosecutor, I never went to court without a plan."

"Well, you've never been the victim," he pointed out.

"_I_ should be trying the bastard who shot that little boy," she said stubbornly, a trace of her old arrogance seeping back into her voice. She had met with Casey Novak earlier in the day to prepare her own testimony, and had not been impressed. She wondered whether her less-than-awed opinion of the other lawyer had anything to do with legitimate reasons, or whether she was simply jealous of all the time Casey must be spending with Olivia.

"Hey," he said, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "You're gonna be back."

Elliot looked at Alex and saw her eyes pooling. Olivia was half an hour late to relieve Elliot from his post. Although neither of them had mentioned it, they were both beginning to wonder if she would show up. Elliot wondered if he should mention Olivia's strange behavior earlier. He knew that Olivia was desperately in love with Alex and had never given up on seeing her again. She had worn the diamond necklace Alex's mother gave her every day, and he observed Olivia daydreaming and staring at nothing in particular many times since Alex's disappearance; something he'd never seen before.

Alex looked at Elliot imploringly, as though she wanted to ask him something, or was perhaps waiting for him to volunteer information. No words had come out of her mouth, though, when the moment was interrupted by a loud knock at the door.

Alex startled, and Elliot leapt to his feet, drawing his gun and pointing it at the door.

"Hey, it's Liv. Open up," the detective's familiar voice called.

Elliot looked at Alex, who was smiling with something that looked like both hope and relief. _Relief that it's not someone coming to kill her, or relief that Olivia's gonna stop this bullshit?_ he wondered.

Opening the door, Elliot stopped holding his breath only when he saw Olivia's face. She looked determined, but decidedly non-hostile.

"Time to go home," she told him. She walked into the hotel room and smiled at Alex. "Hey," she said, placing her overnight bag on the corner of the room's only bed.

"Get your beauty sleep," Elliot instructed, immediately feeling foolish. Neither Alex nor Olivia needed beauty sleep; they were two of the more astounding natural beauties he had ever known. He also highly doubted that they would be doing much sleeping. "I'll be back 8:00 sharp tomorrow morning to bring you to court."

"Good night," Olivia said quickly. _Leave, already!_

Finally alone with Olivia, Alex castigated herself for not having put more into her appearance. When Olivia tensed up and refused to meet her eyes that afternoon in the squad room, Alex had thought of a thousand different explanations for the detective's behavior_. She doesn't feel the same way about me. Maybe I haven't aged well. These clothes from the discounter don't exactly do anything for my figure. Maybe she realized she's not into women. Maybe she's confused. Oh God, maybe she's with someone else._

Nervously, Olivia searched for something, anything, to say to Alex. "He beat you again?" she wisecracked, gesturing at the open game of backgammon.

"Like a rug," Alex admitted ruefully.

"You want to keep playing?" Olivia asked, trying to make Alex comfortable. She had spent the last eighteen months dreaming of being alone with Alex, and all she could think to talk about was a board game. _Have you dreamed about us? Have you replayed our goodbye a thousand times in your head? Do you have expectations? How can I live up to them?_

Alex shook her head in response. Olivia was standing so close that Alex could smell the leather and shampoo that partially comprised the older woman's unique scent. It was intoxicating. Alex's knees felt weak. She slowly stepped over to the wall and leaned against the window. "I wish these windows opened," she said. "I want to smell the city."

"You mean the rotting garbage and the diesel exhaust?" Olivia teased, trying to ease the awkwardness with light humor. It didn't work; she still felt as though her heart would soon beat right out of her chest.

Alex laughed softly, her lips an expression Olivia had never seen. _Is this Alex's smile, or Emily's? _she wondered.

"Wisconsin is so quiet at night," Alex finally said, knowing that she had to tell Olivia about her new life. She looked at Olivia with hesitating eyes, searching for a cue whether to keep talking. The detective sat down on the window ledge, inches away from Alex, and looked at her with soft brown eyes, inviting her to continue. "Sometimes when I get homesick, I hum the Mr. Softee song," Alex confessed, almost smiling before a pained expression crossed her beautiful features.

_And when I get homesick for you, _she thought,_ I weep into my pillow, or I imagine that you're in my arms, or I replay every word we ever said to each other – the friendly words, the semi-flirtatious words, the teasing words, the angry words – and I imagine all the words we never said, like 'I love you and I'll wait for you forever.' _Clearing her throat, Olivia brought her eyes back to Alex's, which she saw had never left Olivia's face.

"You makin' any friends?" Olivia finally asked, hoping that the woman she adored did not spend all of her waking moments miserably lonely.

Alex sighed deeply, focusing her eyes away from Olivia for the first time since the detective had come into the hotel room. Olivia felt her body stiffen, sensing that Alex was about to say something unpleasant.

"There's a claims adjuster at the insurance agency where I work," Alex stated, her voice impassive. "And we've been seeing each other."

Olivia felt as though she'd been punched in the gut as Alex confirmed her worst fears. _So this is why she didn't call to tell me she was coming home, _she realized. _She's in love, and it's not with me. Not anymore – if she ever was._ "Good," she said, hearing her own voice choke on the word. Her eyes watered and she focused on not totally falling apart.

Alex looked at Olivia with all the love in her heart. She had hating telling this particular truth, but Olivia deserved it. She had only started seeing Carl Olson a couple of months ago, after more than a year of feeling completely isolated and alone. Olivia's hold on her heart was as firm as ever, but she needed human contact; needed something resembling a normal relationship. She needed to be honest about her relationship in Wisconsin before asking Olivia to be with her.

"He's a good man," Alex said, her eyes closed, unable to look at Olivia. "He thinks I'm from Tulsa. And when we're in bed at night, he whispers my name. Emily." After a moment, she opened her eyes, and looked back at Olivia, who looked positively numb. Alex's heart seemed to stop beating as she realized that her intention to describe her relationship with Carl to express that anything other than coming home and being with Olivia would never work had clearly backfired.

Olivia, still sitting on the window ledge, moved her head so that Alex wouldn't see that her tears were already falling. "It's hard to be someone that you're not," she said, in a voice barely louder than a whisper. _Like me right now. I'm not this strong. I'm dying, but I can't let you see that. _Wiping a hand across her cheek, she stood, facing away from Alex. She walked over to the bed and sat down, looking at the opposite wall, physically pained.

Alex's jaw clenched, her body dropping with the heavy knowledge that she had just hurt Olivia deeply. She wanted to cross the room and take Olivia into her arms, but could not find the strength. _So this is how it's going to be, Cabot? You're gonna throw that out and act like the feelings you both have aren't real. You're going to spend tonight in the same old soul-crushing game of push and pull, I-like-it-now-stop. Then you're gonna spend the next however many years wishing like hell you'd laid it all out there tonight. Some things never fucking change, do they?_

"I can't stop thinking like a prosecutor," she said abruptly, hoping to collect herself by changing the subject. She knew that she couldn't tell Olivia the rest of the truth while she was about to cry. If she changed the subject, put some space between them, then maybe she could open up. "Connors is going to sit in that courtroom tomorrow, looking like a choir boy. He's going to charm the jury with his Irish brogue, and I… I have to make them see who he really is."

Olivia was quiet for a moment, and then she reached into her bag and pulled out a manila folder. "Alex… you didn't see this file," she advised the other woman.

When Alex opened the folder, she saw Liam Connors' photograph, along with a record of his personal information and criminal record. She looked at Olivia, who was again standing next to her. "Thank you," she said softly, knowing the enormous risk Olivia, who had just survived almost losing her job and reputation, had taken for her.

"Alex," Olivia said, her voice thick, "I'm glad that… that you're building a life, that you've found…love…that…" her voice trailed off, her words ringing hollow in her own ears.

"Oh, Liv," Alex said, shaking her head. "It's not love. And this… this is not my life." She paused. "My life is here. My life is… with you. At least I want it to be. All I want is to be able to come back to New York, to pick up where I left off."

Olivia was looking at Alex with an expression of surprise and joy. She gently reached out and took Alex's hand in hers. "The claims adjuster who whispers 'Emily,'" she said softly.

"I need to explain that," Alex said, sounding miserable. "When I told you I was seeing someone."

"Alex," Olivia said, facing Alex's azure gaze. "It's okay, Sweetheart."

Alex closed her eyes, breathing deeply. _It's now or never_, she realized, her hand

closing around Olivia's as she steadied herself.

"Liv, I need you to understand why I told you about him. I didn't say that to hurt you,

you have to know that. I would never, never hurt you." She grew quiet, and brought her free hand to Olivia's chin, pulling the older woman's face toward hers. "Liv, look at me."

Olivia blinked, and felt a tear glide down her cheek. _So much for the strong cop _

_façade._

"No," Alex said, her voice a whisper as she pressed a slender finger to Olivia's cheek

and brushed the tear away. "No, Baby. Don't cry."

Olivia pulled away, wiping the tear with the back of her hand. Alex whispered, "Please.

I can't be okay if I've hurt you." She stopped, removing her glasses and placing them on a table. "It's been different for me, these two years, and I need you to understand. You had your work, your friends. I didn't have anything to hold onto. I read my mother's obituary in the _New York Times_. Nobody told me. My mother died thinking she outlived me. I had memories, and I had questions about what I would be coming back to. Liv, I didn't know… not until that night."

"I didn't, either," the detective admitted. "I mean, I knew I had feelings, but I didn't

know what they meant until…" her voice broke. _Until I held your dying body in my arms. Until they told me you were gone. Until you held my hand and looked at me before they took your way, telling me with your eyes how much you wanted to hold me and needed me to hold you?_

"I've been in the middle of nowhere," Alex said. "I had no idea if I'd ever see you again Liv, and I've been so goddamned lonely. Please try to understand. I'm working in an insurance office! I feel so…insignificant." Her eyes brimmed with tears, and it occurred to Olivia that she had never seen Alex so vulnerable. "He makes me feel important, something I haven't felt for two years." Alex began to speak a little more quickly, stammering in a way that Olivia had never heard and which she found completely endearing. "And we never talked about – I mean, you and I, we didn't. And I didn't know if I would even see you again- and every night, Olivia, God… every night, I just wanted you to be there. And I need you to know… I don't know if you've been with anyone, but if you have, I need you to know that it's _okay._ You didn't know if you'd ever see me again, and I have never expected you to just wait for me."

Alex looked at her for a long moment. "Oh, Liv," she said, shaking her head in mild frustration when the detective said nothing. "Don't you know by now that I belong to you?" A crooked smile, one that was all Alex, crossed her lips.

Feeling herself smile, Olivia reached out to the Alex, settling her hands on the small of her back. Lowering her eyelids, she moved her face close enough to smell Alex's floral perfume. "I've missed you so much," she murmured, hugging Alex tightly against her chest.

"And I'm yours," Alex breathed, gently pressing her mouth over the detective's for a soft

kiss.

Olivia responded by pulling Alex closer, feeling a surge of excitement all over her body when the blonde's breasts pushed against hers. Alex gasped softly, pushing Olivia's jacket off her shoulders and running her slender flingers across Olivia's neck as she placed a row of tiny kisses along the other woman's throat. Even through their clothing, Olivia could sense Alex's arousal. She lifted Alex's chin toward her, placed her lips on Alex's, and opened her mouth, weakening when Alex's tongue pushed against her own, warm and wet and silky smooth.

They broke apart, both breathing heavily. Alex cautiously backed away, and sat down on the foot of the bed. "Olivia, I can't promise you that I'm coming home soon, or that I'm coming home at all," she said, sadness evident in her voice.

"I know," Olivia acknowledged, hating that Alex still felt she had to apologize for the miserable situation. "I also know that we have an entire night, maybe even a couple of nights. Five minutes with you before they took you away? That got me through two years. I think this might get me through the rest of my life."

Alex smiled, never taking her eyes off Olivia as she held out her hands. "Come here," she whispered. "Make love to me."


	4. Chapter 4

**-11-**

**New York City**

**2/22/05**

**(Three Years Ago)**

**continued**

"Make love to me."

Olivia swallowed, absorbing the words Alex had just spoken. It was clear to her immediately what Alex meant; after having just confessed that she had been so incredibly lonely in Wisconsin that, although she hated it, she sought comfort from someone else, she never really gave herself to him. Olivia was different. Alex needed Olivia to _take_ her; to _possess_ her completely. As importantly, she needed Olivia to know without any doubt that Alex was entirely hers; and her words were an invitation to the detective to come to the bed and stake her claim.

Olivia walked the five steps over to the bed and felt as though she was walking through the thickest air ever created. Her breathing was slow and labored, her movements seemed to have been unintentionally put into slow motion as she tried to commit every detail of this short walk to her memory, aware that she had no way of knowing how long the memories she was about to create would have to sustain them both.

She stood before Alex in reverent silence, looking down into blue eyes with awe and desire. Kneeling, Olivia leaned forward and kissed Alex deeply, sensuously, pushing her tongue into Alex's mouth as her hands found their way to the younger woman's hips. Slowly, she raised her hands, pulling Alex's sweater up. Alex raised her hands, helping Olivia to remove the offending garment, and then reached forward and helped Olivia out of her own pullover. Their lips met again, the combined sound of their sharp intakes of breath and low, gasping exhalations only increasing the arousal they each felt.

Olivia rose back to a standing position, and put her arms around Alex's body, tracing her left hand down Alex's back while her right hand cradled Alex's head, gently playing with the soft blond hair that had grown longer since they had last seen one another. Her face pressed against Olivia's muscled abdomen, Alex began to weep. At first her sobs came slowly and gently, but soon tears were streaking down her alabaster cheeks, her chest shivering with each new wave of sorrow.

Olivia was torn between wanting to encourage Alex to feel safe and allowed to break and wanting to comfort her. She rubbed Alex's back gently, her fingers finding the clasp of Alex's bra and releasing it. "I'm here," she whispered into Alex's ear, reassuringly. "It's okay, Sweetheart. I've got you. It's okay."

Olivia's words of comfort had their desired effect, and Alex slowly stopped crying, but did not appear for one moment to have been embarrassed by her show of emotion. She nodded and pulled away from Olivia, lying back on the bed looking at the older woman, her breasts now exposed. Olivia heard herself draw a quick breath as she looked at the woman before her. She licked her lips, removed her own bra, and lowered herself onto the bed, supported by her knees and elbows as she hovered over Alex's trembling body.

"Liv," Alex moaned as Olivia's breasts grazed her body. She focused her blue eyes on Olivia's, noting the beautiful flecks of copper in the detective's chocolate gaze. She lifted a hand to Olivia's face, tracing the miraculous shape of cheekbones and jaw, and then ran her fingertips over Olivia's lips. She groaned when Olivia opened her mouth and nipped at her fingers, and placed her hands on the detective's back, pulling Olivia's body down on top of hers. The ecstasy of their bare breasts pressing together causing a shudder to ripple through Alex's body.

"You feel…" Alex murmured, unable to complete her thought before Olivia's tongue was once again in her mouth, brushing against her own with languid strokes while Olivia's surprisingly gentle, smooth hands massaged Alex's sides. She pulled her mouth away from Olivia's long enough to catch her breath, and then kissed the brunette's forehead. "I love you so much, Olivia," she said, her voice almost breaking and her tears threatening to return.

Olivia looked at Alex, brown eyes searching blue. "I love you," she responded, burying her face against Alex's neck, running her tongue along the other woman's throat. And then she whispered, "Alex."

What began as a hesitant and slow exploration of each other's bodies soon became heated and intense. Olivia's hands continued to roam, and she rolled onto her elbow, turning her attention from Alex's back to her beautiful breasts - small and firm, with fully erect rose-colored nipples. She gazed at them in wonder, and smiled as she bent her head closer to place tender kisses in the valley between them. Alex sighed, stretching out lazily as she enjoyed Olivia's attentions. Olivia's tongue darted out playfully, teasing Alex with small flicks across her chest while Olivia's hand caressed her right breast, her fingers lovingly caressing the soft skin while she moved her thumb across Alex's nipple in quick, barely-there strokes.

"Liv," Alex moaned quietly, her hips bucking when Olivia finally opened her mouth over Alex's left breast. Alex ran a hand up Olivia's back and tangled her fingers in the impossibly thick brown locks, directing Olivia's head as she heard small noises of pleasure escape her own throat.

Olivia heard the unspoken request, and her hands were instantly upon the button of Alex's jeans, then the zipper, then pushing the restrictive pants from Alex's hips and pulling them off her legs, taking Alex's panties with them. Her own jeans and bikinis were hastily removed and tossed to the floor, where joined the rest of their clothing. Rubbing the palm of her left hand against Alex's right thigh, Olivia returned to her previous position atop Alex.

Alex spread her legs beneath Olivia and bucked her hips again, both women momentarily losing their breath at the intimate contact. Olivia responded by thrusting her hips forward, gasping as her swollen clit dipped into the wetness between Alex's legs. She heard herself groan as she thrust forward again, Alex moving her own hips and rocking her legs, now bent at the knee, holding Olivia in place above her, as they found a slow and fulfilling rhythm.

Olivia lifted her mouth from Alex's throat, raising her head to study the woman beneath her. She had played out scenes similar to this many times, but even in the hottest moments of her wildest dreams, Olivia had not anticipated the beautiful sight of Alexandra Cabot passionately moving beneath her, had not realized that she had never seen Alex at her most beautiful. For a moment, Olivia was still, concentrating only on memorizing the sights, feeling, and scents that were threatening to overwhelm her.

"Liv?" Alex asked, her voice a bit unsure. "Are you okay?" She looked apprehensive, ceasing her own rhythmic movements. "You're somewhere else…"

"No," Olivia smiled as she shook her head. "I'm right here. I'm just… I'm just trying to memorize you."

Alex laughed softly, moved in a way that words could never express, so she didn't try. She simply nodded. _Just like the last time I wanted you to know that I knew exactly what you meant, but couldn't find the words…_

The next sensation Alex felt was that of Olivia's fingers stroking her wet core, spreading her open slowly and then slipping into her with two strong fingers. Olivia's thrust was deliberate and strong, her hard fingers contrasting beautifully with her now lax kisses. Alex stifled a moan as she spread her legs wider, drawing her lover further into her. Lifting herself off the bed with her hips, she positioned herself on top of Olivia and lowered herself onto the older woman's hand, both of them groaning as Olivia slipped completely inside of Alex.

Olivia drew her own legs closer together, bending them to support Alex in a sitting position astride her. She opened her eyes and watched as Alex rode her hand, using her free fingers to caress Alex's smooth breasts. "Liv.." Alex managed, her face reddening as her long blonde hair fell forward, brushing Olivia's hardened nipples. The teasing sensation caused the pressure that Olivia felt in her own center to increase, so much that Olivia cried out in tortured pleasure.

When Alex's orgasm hit her, her body collapsed forward, and her weight fell onto the one hand she had managed to put out in front of her to break her fall onto Olivia's body. "Oh, God, Olivia," she whimpered, licking her lover's ear lobe and then placing a small kiss on the corner of Olivia's mouth.

They lay, long limbs entwined and occasionally engaging in long and deep kisses, for several minutes. Finally, it was Alex who spoke. "This is the most beautiful experience of my life," she said, turning her gaze to Olivia.

Olivia looked into Alex's eyes. "Me too," she said softly. In a whisper, she confided, "I love you so much, Alex. I can't let you go again… I can't do it. Not after…"

"Shh," Alex instructed gently, silencing Olivia with a slow kiss, moving her tongue along the detective's swollen lips. "Don't talk like that," she pleaded. "Right now, tomorrow doesn't exist. Only me. Only you. Only now. And right now, we are together, and nothing else matters."

Olivia was at a loss for words. So she nodded, sure that Alex understood.

Alex's mouth left Olivia's lips and began the long journey down Olivia's toned shoulders, then past her perfect breasts – larger than Alex remembered, and perfectly firm, with beautiful russet nipples – down the taut ripples of her abdomen, finally resting in Olivia's inner thighs, where the combined pressure of Alex's tongue, teeth and lips, combined with the feathery touch of her hair, threatened to drive Olivia over the edge before Alex ever put her lips on her final destination.

"Alex…" Olivia moaned as the Alex stroked her outer lips with a slender finger, turning her tongue's attention to Olivia's hard clit, circling and then closing her lips tightly around the small button, sucking and drinking deeply of Olivia's delicious juices. She felt Olivia shift, pushing herself further into Alex's mouth, and then she slipped first one finger, then two, into Olivia, matching the pulsing of her tongue with the thrusts of her fingers.

Olivia's orgasm came swift and hard, causing her hips to move forward with such momentum that Alex was thrown from her, her laughter continuing until she scooted up in bed, bringing her face level with Olivia's. "Baby…" Olivia murmured, tracing Alex's face with a finger that still carried the scent of her arousal. "My Alex… my beautiful, brilliant, brave Alex…"

Alex lowered her eyes, burying her face into the soft, sweet spot between Olivia's arm and her breasts, savoring the feeling of Olivia's heart beating beneath her cheeks. "I love you," she said, proud that she had lost track of how many times she had uttered the words. She had been waiting for almost two years for the opportunity to say them, and had no way of knowing how long it would be before Olivia was able to hear them again.

"I love you," Olivia said, bringing her left arm around Alex's shoulders and hugging her lover tight. "Alex," she whispered, wanting the other woman to always carry memories of the woman who made love to her and whispered her true name.

Olivia cradled Alex for several long moments, until she felt the other woman's breathing fall into a gradual rise and fall, with the occasional perfectly adorable little snore. She glanced at the illuminated numbers on the clock radio beside the bed. There was time for a little sleep before Alex had to be in court, and Olivia knew that as much as she didn't want to waste any time with Alex doing something like sleeping, Alex needed to be rested in order to be at her best. So she lay there awake, memorizing the way Alex's sleeping body felt spooned against her own; memorizing the scent of Alex fully aroused; memorizing the taste of Alex on her lips; memorizing the sound of Alex's ragged breaths when in the throes of lovemaking; memorizing _Alex_ so that, whether their next separation was for two years or ten, she would never forget where – or to whom – she belonged.

And, when she heard Alex murmur a lazy, "..'Livia…" as she shifted positions in her sleep, Olivia shed a few silent tears into her pillow before drifting into a precious sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**-12-**

**New York Police Department**

**16****th**** Precinct, Manhattan Special Victims Unit**

**Saturday, 10 a.m.**

**(Present Day)**

Olivia yawned, stretching her fingers through her short hair.

"You look like you've been partyin' like a rock star all night," Elliot teased, entering the squad room with a large Tupperware container. "Kathy made muffins," he explained.

"Bless her heart," Olivia smiled, removing a warm blueberry muffin and taking a luxurious bite. "I'm not quite the rock star I was twenty years ago."

"Hanging around a bunch of kids in a nightclub not lighting your fire anymore?"

"Hey, at least someone wanted to light my fire. I don't remember anyone hitting on you."

"It must've been the wedding band I forgot to take off," he said sheepishly. "Ready to go visit Mr. Grant and tell him the tox screen we got this morning revealed traces of Ecstasy and heroin in Mason Ferrars' system?"

"What?" She was hearing this for the first time.

"Warner's call came when I was on my way over," he explained. "She was able to deduce that it probably came from the same batch as the drugs we found in Billy Grant's underwear drawer. It's a near certainty that Billy Grant's drugs were used to drug the Ferrars boy."

"He said he'd take a DNA test," Olivia mused. "We'll have to run it against the semen found on Mason."

"They have his sample; it'll be a couple of days before we know whether we have a match," Elliot said. He had clearly already covered these points with Warner.

"Well, let's pay him a visit," Olivia said, frowning.

**-13-**

**Reyes Residence**

**Williamsburg, Virginia**

**Saturday, 12:30 p.m.**

**(Present Day)**

"I'm leaving in five minutes, with you or without you!" Alex threatened, anxiously checking her watch as she stood by the front door.

"I'm comin'," he grumbled, padding through the kitchen wiping sleep from his eyes.

"How late did you stay up on that computer?" she asked, arching an eyebrow

"I dunno. It's not a school night."

"Doesn't matter. You still have a bedtime," she pointed out.

He nodded. "But I hit level 70. Do you have any concept of how huge it is?"

She stared at him for a moment, and then admitted, "Actually, I have no idea."

"It's epic."

She sighed. "Congratulations, then, Epic Man. You're about to bend it like Beckham."

"But I'm no good at soccer," he protested as he took the sandwich she offered and followed her to the car, sitting in the passenger seat.

"I'm not, either," she admitted, smiling at him. "But if you're going to set records by becoming the most uber video gamer there ever was, then by God, you're going to do something physical and outdoorsy as well. I don't want you to become as white as me."

He laughed. "You listen to opera and classical music for fun, Mom. I'll _never _be as white as you."

She grinned. He didn't often call her 'Mom,' and although it still surprised her when it happened, she was starting to really like the sound of it. Parenthood had been a huge adjustment for her – even bigger than learning to live on a budget had been. "I'm not _that_ bad," she protested, knowing she truly was.

"Do I have to remind you that you embarrassed me in front of Chad and Jonathan when you told them I wasn't allowed to listen to 'Fifty Cents'?"

"How am I supposed to look at that name and arrive at Fiddy Cent? Fiddy isn't a word."

"Is now," he pointed out. "Hey, whoa. Parked cars ahead."

"I've got it," she said, smirking. "There's nothing like an eleven-year-old constantly pointing out the flaws in your driving."

"You're a lousy driver."

"Gee, thanks."

"I kid because I love," he said, using one of her own lines against her. She winked at him, and he smiled. "Do I really have to do this?" he asked between bites of peanut butter and blackberry jam.

"Why are you so against it?"

"Because I'm scared I'm gonna embarrass myself," he admitted. "What if I'm no good?"

"Hey," she said, patting his knee encouragingly. "You're gonna do fine."

"What are they gonna make me do?"

"Kick a ball, I guess," she shrugged. "Then they assign you to spring teams based on your demonstrated abilities. I suppose they try to ensure that there's an even distribution of skill on all of the teams."

"Did you play soccer?"

"No. Tennis."

"Why don't you play anymore?"

"Bum shoulder," she reminded him. "I'd kick ass for about two minutes, and then I'd hyperextend and wind up flat on my back, begging for death."

He nodded. "OK. So this attempt to turn me into Pele is really about your desire to live vicariously through your son?"

She laughed out loud, pulling into a parking spot. "Good God, you really _are_ my son," she said, proudly. "Let's go kick some soccer butt. If you want, I'll take us to a movie after."

"James Bond?"

"James Bond is PG-13."

"Like I haven't learned worse language from watching you watch Debbie Lynne Maloney."

Alex froze, the images from the previous night's broadcast playing through her mind.

"Mom?" he waved a hand, sticky from jelly, in her face. "What's wrong? I was kidding."

"James Bond is fine, Sweetheart," she said, putting her hand on his shoulders and leading him into the clubhouse. Silently, she pinned a tryout number to his t-shirt.

**-14-**

**New York City**

**2/23/05**

**Three Years Ago**

**(Continued)**

Just two hours after drifting off, Olivia woke to the faint sound of clicking in the room. Rubbing her eyes and feeling strangely alone in the large bed, she saw that Alex was awake, reading Connors' file and tapping her glasses against the window-side desktop with restless energy.

"Alex," she said, reorienting herself. "It's three o'clock."

"I can't sleep," Alex admitted, tossing a sheepish look at Olivia. "At least, I can't stay asleep."

"Want to come back here and try again?" Olivia invited, a charmingly off-center grin on her face. She sat up against the pillows, her breasts now visible.

Alex licked her bottom lip unconsciously, and then laughed at the obvious display of her arousal. _Subtle, Cabot_, her subconscious teased. "Well, I suppose Mr. Connors will still be here for me in a little while," she decided, standing up and padding back to the bed, where she lay down beside Olivia and greeted her lover with a sweet kiss.

"You're wearing clothes," Olivia criticized.

"Just pajamas," Alex said, surveying her flannel ensemble.

"I never thought of you as a flannel jammies kind of girl, Counselor," Olivia flirted.

"So you've pictured me in nightwear?"

"Only a thousand times."

Alex's laugh was throaty and infectious. She kissed Olivia's forehead sweetly, and then confessed, "Well, you're right… when I was Alex Cabot, I didn't own flannel anything. These," she said, gesturing to the pajamas she was quickly discarding, "are definitely part of Emily Watson's Wisconsin winter collection."

"Sweetheart," Olivia said, looking into Alex's eyes, "never say that again."

"Never say what again?"

"Never say 'When I _was_ Alex Cabot.' You still are. You always will be," Olivia said, her voice gentle but firm.

"Sometimes I believe that," Alex said, looking at the ceiling, unable to hold Olivia's gaze. "Sometimes I feel like any moment, you're going to show up at my door and tell me it's all okay. You're going to hold open your arms, and I'm going to walk into them, and you're going to say something like, 'It's okay, Sweetheart. Velez is dead.' Maybe you'll tell me you've found him and killed him yourself. You'll tell me it's time for me to come home with you." She was crying softly now, her tears dampening the pillow beneath her.

"I have that exact same fantasy," Olivia confessed, burying her face in Alex's smooth hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin and shampoo.

"But then there's other times," Alex continued, her tone decidedly more serious. She paused when she felt Olivia's hand caress her breast, the detective snuggling in closer to her, draping a leg across her thigh.

"Tell me about the other times," Olivia said, still listening even as she slowly pressed herself against Alex's hip, leaving a trail of wetness on the other woman's skin.

Alex reacted to Olivia's movements, turning so that she was face-to-face with Olivia. "Sometimes I'm so scared that I'll never see you again, I'll never come back to my life, or that I'll come back and everyone else will have gotten on with things while I've been frozen in limbo. I might arrive back in New York thinking I can just pick up where I've left off, but the truth is I probably won't be able to waltz right back into my old life. I haven't practiced law in almost two years. And what if you've moved on? What if when I finally come back for good – _if_ I finally come back for good – there's no more space in your life for me?"

"Oh, Alex… no," Olivia protested, pulling Alex close, slipping her arms around the younger woman. "You need to just put that out of your mind. There will _always_ be space in my life for you. My life is incomplete without you."

"Olivia, I don't… I don't want you to wait for me," Alex said, almost choking on her words.

"What?" Olivia's face registered shock. _Why not? I thought you loved me, needed me the way I need you… and I sure as hell want you to wait for me. _

"I just mean… I don't want you to feel obligated…" Alex swallowed, not sure whether she truly meant a word of what she was saying. "I want you to feel free to live your life without the fear of what I'm going to think. We might not see each other again, or maybe we'll be seventy years old, or maybe you'll fall in love, want a family…"

"Do you honestly think I could ever fall in love like this with anyone else?" Olivia demanded, losing her temper.

"I'm just saying that you shouldn't put your life on hold for something that may not ever happen," Alex said, her voice sounding quite a bit harsher than she intended.

"Goddamnit, Alex," Olivia huffed, breaking away from the blonde's embrace, pulling her legs up to her chest and then sitting on the edge of the bed, glaring at the wall as her face fell into her hands. _I'd forgotten how much you can frustrate me. I want you to tell me that I'm yours, and that you absolutely cannot handle the idea of my being with anyone else. I want you to promise me that you'll never succumb to that weakness again. _

"Christ, Olivia," Alex groaned, sitting up beside her lover. "I had no idea that my attempt to be noble, to be generous, would offend you…"

"What if I don't feel so fucking noble?" Olivia asked, her voice raising. "What if I feel pretty fucking selfish right now? Because this… being with you…" her voice grew louder and more insistent as she spoke, "has convinced me that I want you all to myself forever, and the thought of you ever moving on or getting on with your life… well, maybe that's what I'm supposed to want, but… I just want you to be here with me. I can't _not_ be selfish when it comes to you."

"And you want me to be selfish when it comes to you, too?" Alex asked, realizing where Olivia was going. "Oh, Sweetheart," she murmured, kissing Olivia's neck. "I love you. I will _always _love only you." She looked at Olivia and smiled. "It wouldn't be a real Alex and Olivia reunion unless we fought a little, huh?"

At this, Olivia finally laughed, deeply and throatily. She lay back on the bed, pulling Alex with her. "Know what I always wanted to do to you after those fights?"

Alex rolled her eyes. "Know what I always did to _myself_ after those fights?" she said, and then realized she'd uttered the words out loud.

"No," Olivia giggled. "Me, too!"

"I suspected it all along," Alex said smugly, kissing Olivia's forehead.

"Mmmm," Olivia murmured, placing her strong hands on Alex's hips, pinning the blonde in place on the bed as she positioned herself on top. Bending her head closer to Alex's ear, she whispered, "I want to taste you."

Alex sighed contentedly as Olivia kissed her way down her abdomen, hands still holding tightly to Alex's hips. She gazed at her lover's lowering head with love, tangling her fingers in short brown hair. "Olivia? I take it back. I don't ever want you touching anyone else."

She heard a small laugh before feeling the exquisite touch of Olivia's tongue, passing back and forth over her entrance with warm, wet strokes before settling on her hardened clit. She groaned, unconsciously spreading her legs further to give Olivia room to push her tongue into Alex, plunging slow and deep. "Oh, Liv…" she moaned into her pillow, closing her eyes as Olivia's tongue was replaced by two curled fingers pumping in and out of her in a steady rhythm. When Olivia flicked her tongue across Alex's clit, Alex lifted her hips to ease the fingers deeper inside, convinced that she would never be able to get close enough.

Alex heard herself cry out as her body convulsed in pleasure, and then she was vaguely aware of Olivia lying on the bed, pulling Alex on top of her and kissing her forehead, stroking her back.

"Liv," Alex murmured. "We wasted so much time… time we could've…"

"It's okay," Olivia squeezed Alex close to her. "We still have a few hours…"

"I don't want to spend them sleeping," Alex confessed. "I should rest a little, though – everything is riding on tomorrow. Beyond wanting to get even with the man who tried to kill me, if we can put Cesar Velez's best hit man in prison…"

"We're a step closer to bringing Velez down," Olivia acknowledged.

"A step closer to bringing me home," Alex added, smiling at Olivia.

"A step closer to our happily ever after," Olivia finished, beaming. "God, Alex, you taste so sweet…" She licked her lips.

"Corny," Alex teased, loving every second of it.

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"I have to ask. How does the reality compare with the fantasy?"

Alex smiled. "Well, the fantasies were pretty incredible," she admitted. "But honestly? Nothing could ever have prepared me for this… for holding you, kissing you, feeling you moving inside me," she pressed her lips against Olivia's, and tasted her own juice on Olivia's lips. "Now I know exactly what I'm going to come home to. And nothing, nothing could compare to this."

Olivia felt tears coming, so she gave Alex a small nod. _I love you, too. _


	6. Chapter 6

**-15-**

**New York Police Department**

**16****th**** Precinct, Manhattan Special Victims Unit**

**Saturday, 4 p.m.**

**(Present Day)**

The interview with Billy Grant led nowhere. He started crying and stopped talking almost immediately after learning the results of Mason Ferrars' tox screen, and asked for an attorney.

In the observation room, Elliot and Olivia waited for the Public Defender's arrival with Don Cragen and ADA Casey Novak.

"We only get him for 24 hours on possession," Casey announced. "What can you do with him in the remaining 10?"

"What about the trafficking?" Cragen bristled.

"Did you see a deal go down?" Casey asked Elliot, an eyebrow raised.

"Not technically," Elliot said through clenched teeth.

Olivia was pacing the room like a caged animal. "We saw four or five guys go into the stall and walk out, all while Billy Grant was inside. A patron took me into the bathroom for the express purpose of purchasing Ecstasy from Grant," she explained, testily.

"Did he try to sell _you_ Ecstasy, Olivia?" Novak questioned.

"No, Casey, he didn't," Olivia answered, tersely.

"And did you witness him selling drug to anyone else? Or did you just notice that the stall was popular?"

Olivia shot her a look that could kill.

"Then it sounds like you arrested him for trafficking before you made sure he actually was," Casey concluded, crossing her arms.

"Come on, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to understand what was going on in that bathroom," Elliot barked.

"No, but you do have to have actual _dealing_ if you want me to charge him with it," Casey shook her head, a bit unnerved.

"We can go ahead and arrest him for abduction, drugging, beating and murder," Olivia stated, irritated that she had to carry any water for Casey.

"You're ahead of yourself, Olivia," Casey disagreed. "Billy Grant isn't the only person in that house with access to his drugs and the bat. Unless we match the semen to his DNA sample – and I understand that's _not_ going to happen until at least Monday – we may as well charge Mason's father with the murder."

A simmering rage rose to the surface, and Olivia kicked the wall with a force that got everyone's attention. "Goddamnit," she muttered. "Warner already had Jordan Ferrars' DNA, and when the lab ran it, it wasn't a match. We all know what the DNA evidence is going to show. If we arrest him for assault and murder; we can add the additional charges next week after we have our match."

Casey was quiet, considering Olivia's position. "You have ten hours to try for a confession. The PD should be here any minute, and you can resume your interrogation."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "This is useless," she groaned. _Alex always trusted my gut. Alex always figured out a way to make things stick. Alex always…_ She closed her eyes and tried to bring herself back to the present.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Olivia, but I need more than your hunch," Casey said, exasperated. _Why is she always so impossible? What the hell did I ever do to her?_

"You're going to tell us to let this child killer loose?" Olivia confronted her getting into her face. "Don't look at me and tell me you're sorry." She sighed, angry.

Elliot watched from several feet away. For once, his was the cooler head. "Liv," he said, cautiously. "We can talk to Grant when the public defender gets here. He's scared to death. We can get him to give us enough to make Casey comfortable, I know…"

Olivia put her hand up, shaking Elliot's from her shoulder. _I could give a shit what makes Casey Novak comfortable._ "Fucking ridiculous," she muttered, walking back into the interrogation room. If she couldn't talk to Grant, she would stare at him. It beat standing here, looking at Not Alex.

Back in the interrogation room, Cragen frowned. "What's with Benson?" he asked Elliot.

"She's upset," Elliot said, knowing that his assessment was shedding absolutely no light on what had just happened.

"No shit," Casey said with an eye roll. "Olivia Benson's having a bad day and the rest of us pay for it. What else is new?"

Elliot opened his mouth, as if to speak, but no words came out. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and glared at her.

"There's about two dozen cameras outside the precinct," Cragen changed the subject back to the investigsation. "I'm gonna send Fin and Munch to talk to Paula and Jordan Ferrars. We're gonna have to make a statement about the investigation no later than this time tomorrow. Everyone from Oprah to Debbie Lynn Maloney's talking about this case, and people want to know we're actually making progress."

Elliot nodded, frowning. He understood the pressure Cragen was feeling, but he'd always hated press conferences. What purpose did they serve, other than to alert perps to what cops were thinking? And why did they owe any explanations to anyone? He looked through the glass, spying on Olivia as she sat, arms crossed, glowering at the silent Billy Grant. "We make this arrest, that's something to announce," he mused.

Cragen nodded. "I'm perfectly comfortable. Go do it."

Novak shook her head. _Why don't they listen to me? What did I ever do to them? _

**-16-**

**Williamsburg, VA**

**Saturday, 4:30 p.m.**

**(Present Day)**

After what seemed like an eternity, it was Antonio's turn to join a group for the tryouts. Alex scooted forward on the bleacher, keeping her eye on his Number 84 placard as he made his way onto the half-frozen field.

As it turned out, the tryouts involved more than kicking balls. There was running, aerobics, shooting and blocking. Antonio looked absolutely miserable, his face reddening as he shot an occasional nasty look her way. Alex had to admit that he probably wasn't going to become a major soccer star, but he was holding his own. _Not bad for someone who's never played, _she smiled to herself, a smug expression on her face.

Alex's temporary enthusiasm began to descend into something approaching shame at having forced him into the tryouts. Her own mother had been loving, yet overbearing, and Alex wondered if she was now mothering the same way. She had never doubted that her mother loved her, yet the weight of Julianne's high expectations had sometimes been crushing. When Alex was six, the father for whom she was named was diagnosed with lung cancer. He had died days before her eleventh birthday, an age when little girls still remain largely convinced that their father is Superman. Julianne had been larger-than-life single mother who had never remarried, turning all of her focus toward her only child.

Lost in memories, Alex didn't notice when the empty seat beside her was been filled by a large, decidedly masculine presence until she heard a voice cry, "Come on, Angie! You got it!"

Alex turned her head and looked at the man who had sat down next to her, and then refocused her attention on the tryouts. _Fine. I can be just as enthusiastic as everyone else_, she inwardly huffed. Spying Antonio running toward a net, she cheered. "Way to go, Miguel!"

Her neighbor smiled, and looked at Alex appreciatively, his eyes running over her face. Alex could tell that he liked what he saw; most people did. Even hidden beneath a dark home dye job and purposefully overdone makeup – Alex had decided early on that while she had taste, Sarah Reyes did not – she was a beautiful woman.

"Which one's your son?" her neighbor asked, his tone friendly.

Alex looked at him warily. He was decent-looking – brown hair graying at the temples, light stubble over his cheeks, green eyes. She wasn't in the mood to strike up a conversation with a stranger, though, and being in the Witness Protection Program had made her even less so. _Trust no one. You never know who's following you, watching you._

When she didn't respond, he looked away, a little embarrassed. Moments later, his question was answered for him when Antonio bounded up the stairs. "I'm done," he said grumpily. "Can we go?"

The man sitting beside Alex smiled at him. "Hey, you looked okay out there to me," he said, charitably.

Alex and Antonio both turned toward him, unsure why he had noticed Antonio's performance. It hadn't been god-awful, but neither had it been remarkable.

"You were next to my daughter, eighty-eight," he explained. "So I couldn't help but see. I coach the high school boys' team."

Antonio offered a small smile. "Thanks," he said, quietly.

"Nathan Hendrix," he said, trying his luck with Alex again.

This earned him the courtesy of a return introduction from Alex, who, although not interested, was almost constitutionally incapable of behaving rudely. "Sarah Reyes," she introduced herself finally, "and my son, Miguel."

Nathan shook the hand he was offered, taking a quick glance at the other and scanning it for a wedding band. Finding none, he pointed out a cute red-haired girl walking toward the bleachers. The number 88 was pinned to her shirt. "That's my Angie. We're probably going to go nab a hot dog and a Coke. Care to join us?"

Antonio grew nervous. He had no idea how to talk to cute girls. He had no idea how to talk to girls, period. Still, he wanted felt himself wanting to go. Turning his dark eyes to Alex, he gave a tiny nod and hoped she caught it.

"Uh…" she stalled, wanting more than anything to get out of there. She could see where Nathan Hendrix's true interest lay, and it wasn't in Antonio's future as a soccer star. "We have a movie to make…"

"James Bond," Antonio said quietly, now sorry that he'd agreed to the matinee. Didn't she understand that the movie would be there in a couple of hours, but the chance to meet this girl wouldn't?

"Hey, Angie and I _love_ 007," Nathan said, smiling.

Alex frowned. She didn't want to encourage Nathan's attention, but she could tell Antonio was looking at the redhead who had just joined them with interest.

"Well," she finally said, "if you'd like to meet us there, I'm pretty sure the theater sells hot dogs."

"Okay," Nathan smiled, perfectly content to ignore the fact that the invitation had not come easily. Angie introduced herself shyly, and the Hendrixes left for their SUV.

"_Ella estan muy bonita,"_ Alex smirked when they were out of earshot. Her Spanish was terrible and she knew it, but Antonio seemed to appreciate the fact that she was making an effort to communicate with him in his first language.

_"Si." _His smile was almost giddy.

"Come on, Romeo," she teased. "Let's stop by the house so you can change. You're not going to impress Juliet smelling like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you've just been running around, sweating for an hour."

"Well, whose fault is that?"

A surge of affection coursed through Alex, and she felt no desire to suppress it. She tousled Antonio's hair, and led him back to their car.


	7. Chapter 7

**-17-**

**New York Police Department**

**16****th**** Precinct, Manhattan Special Victims Unit**

**Saturday, 9 p.m.  
**

The public defender assigned to Billy Grant's case, a young guy with curly blond hair and bewildered-looking brown eyes, had been seated across the table from Olivia and Elliot for almost two hours before Grant had finally given the detective something with which they could run. After they arrested him for the abduction, beating, and murder of Mason Ferrars – and after they had assured him they had every intention of being able to arrest him for the boy's rape before his arraignment the following Wednesday – Billy had turned to his attorney and, through his tears, said, "I can talk. I know some stuff."

"This interview's over," the young public defender tried, panicking inwardly at what his client might be considering confessing.

"I don't think it is," Elliot said, smirking proudly. He could tell that Billy was about to crack, though he had expected to skip the blame game and go right to the confession.

"I want to tell them, I have some information," Billy repeated.

Elliot and Olivia looked curiously at one another as Billy leaned and whispered into his attorney's ear.

"My client believes he can identify at least one other person with access to the drugs and to the apparent murder weapon," the public defender announced, half-smiling.

"Oh, that's convenient," Olivia huffed, rolling her eyes.

"He finally decides to share this information with us _after_ we arrest him for doing it himself," Elliot bristled, unconsciously unbuttoning his dress shirt at the wrists and rolling up the sleeves. He turned to Billy, who looked terrified. "So, Billy, what is it you know that you've waited until now to tell us?"

"My dealer," Billy said quietly, looking at the table. "Look, I didn't say anything because… well, he's a scary guy. I knew I didn't kill Mason; and you'll know it when my DNA doesn't match the…" he stopped talking. "I didn't even think it might have been Serge until you told me that the drugs were found in his system."

"Who the hell is Serge?" Olivia said, not buying the new story. "And why haven't you mentioned him until now?"

"I told you, I was scared!" Billy's eyes were large, his skin growing red.

"You got plenty to be scared about," Elliot boomed, rising to his full height, kicking the chair he had been sitting in away from him. "Kid turns up dead. You live with the family. Only thing is, they haven't seen you since the night before. Looks like the kid was killed with Dad's baseball bat. Only we know it wasn't Dad, because his DNA's not a match. Meanwhile, you can't be found."

"You forgot to tell Jordan and Paula Ferrars that you abandoned your job at Chauncy's," Olivia picked up the narration, standing. She began to pace the room in counter-clockwise circles, something that had always helped her to think; helped her to put the pieces of a mystery into a semblance of order. "Which means you've been spending your days doing something else. Clubs aren't open during the day. Why don't you tell us where you've been?"

Billy was silent.

"Are you working with us or NOT?" Elliot shouted, leaning forward on the table. It was the type of move that would have gotten him in trouble with most defense attorneys, but the kid sitting next to Billy Grant seemed the type to get easily intimidated.

"I go to a place in Manhattan Valley," Billy confessed. "Not every day. But sometimes I go to score, to… to use. You know, before I have to go home in time to get clean. I tutor Chip Ferrars four nights a week."

"You did," Elliot snickered. "Now that the Ferrarses know you brought drugs into their home and you're the lead suspect, the only suspect, in the brutal killing of their younger son, I wouldn't count on seeing Chip again."

Munch and Fin had gone to the Ferrars' penthouse earlier in the day and had reported back on their conversation with Mason's family. Chip had seemed to be adjusting as well as possible, though he obviously missed his brother. He was 13, and very conscious of what death meant. His parents were doing their part to keep him inside, insulated from the constant din of photographers and journalists outside.

Grant buried his face in his hands for a minute, and then looked up. "I was in deep to Serge, okay? And his cousin… his supplier? Well, he's a powerful guy. I was scared, all right? I mean, I want to help you catch Serge, if he killed Mason. I'm a drug addict, detectives, and I have – I've had – a double life of which I'm not especially proud." He paused, looking at his attorney, who seemed more wrapped up in the story than in protecting him. "But I'm no killer. I'm not. Now, I owed Serge some money, and he came to the Ferrars' place to collect one morning when I was alone at home."

"How'd he know where to find you?" Olivia interjected.

"He followed me, I don't know," Billy guessed, rubbing his red eyes. "But he came in ad said if I didn't give him fifty thou right then, it was over."

"That's a pretty high line of credit," Elliot surmised. "How'd you get into him for fifty large?"

"Got beat up and robbed when I was carrying a pretty amazing stockpile," Billy confessed. "Add to that my own account…"

"Someone recognizes you as one of Serge's dealers and jumps you for the product?" Olivia asked, trying to figure out what any of this had to do with Mason Ferrars.

"Yeah," Billy nodded. "So I'm in for all that I lost, plus a few grand from here and there. He comes over, threatenin' me. He was lookin' at the family photos all over the place. Started asking why I wasn't in 'em."

"What did you tell him?" asked Elliot.

"That I wasn't part of the family, that I was the help. And I showed him Jordan's bat – the DiMaggio ash bat. He asked how much it was worth, and I told him a hundred Gs, easy."

"So you think Serge was so impressed by this bat that he decided to come back later, break into the house and steal the bat?"

"Could've happened," Billy said.

"And what, he just decides to go from stealing a baseball bat to abducting, molesting, and killing a nine-year-old boy?" Olivia shook her head. "I'm not buying it, Billy."

"Well, it explains why the drugs in Mason's system match the drugs in my drawer – I bought those drugs from _Serge_ on Wednesday. Probably all from the same batch." Now that Billy was talking, the detectives found that he couldn't bring himself to stop.

"Where can we find Serge?" Elliot asked.

"He's well-protected. He won't be easy to find, and if he's the one who killed this kid, he's probably hiding somewhere. Like I said, he's connected."

"Connected to what?" Olivia snapped.

"Connected to his cousin," Billy said, looking fearful.

"And who's that?" Elliot sneered.

Billy swallowed. "Ever hear the name Cesar Velez?"


	8. Chapter 8

**-18-**

**Williamsburg, VA **

**Saturday, 9:52 p.m.**

**(Present Day)**

After the movie, Sarah and Miguel Reyes said goodnight to their new friends, Nathan and Angie Hendrix. For her part, Alex was glad that the last couple of hours had been spent in silence – she had not looked forward to more awkward conversation with the soccer coach. Although Nathan sat inside the row, leaving a seat beside him open, Alex stepped aside and allowed Antonio to fill it, avoiding any moves that might send Nathan a signal that she was interested in anything other than suffering through an action movie. Her own tastes ran more to foreign films, particularly anything French or South American – but those movies didn't usually screen in Williamsburg. _When I get back to New York_, she'd tell herself every time Antonio insisted on viewing the latest Hollywood blockbusters, _I'm going to spend my first six months going to musicals, foreign films, and operas._ Virginia had its own culture; it was just different.

A true gentleman, Nathan had arrived at the theatre early in order to give himself the opportunity to purchase tickets for everyone. He'd tried to pull the same stunt at the concession stand, but Alex had beaten him to it, whipping out a debit card before he had the chance to treat her to an overpriced hot dog and Antonio to his favorite white cherry slushy. Once seated in the darkened theatre, Alex had seethed about his presumption for nearly twenty minutes before she realized how ridiculous she was being. _He's clearly a nice man. It's not his fault you couldn't be any less interested. You have to make it clear, but you don't have to be such a… bitch_. She smirked to herself and vowed to stop obsessing about what Nathan Hendrix was thinking.

"Daniel Craig is officially the hottest man on the planet," Angie declared once the foursome exited the theater and were preparing to say their goodnights.

Antonio looked dejected, and Alex smiled softly behind him, out of his sight. He had his first crush, and she was torn between whether to tease him about it later or pretend not to notice. It took only a moment's thought for her to settle on the latter option. First crushes were excruciating enough without external torment, no matter how well-intended. _God forbid Mother had ever caught onto my crush on Nancy Quinn_ – _though if she had, a little teasing would likely have been the least of my concerns._

"It was wonderful meeting you both, Sarah, Miguel," Nathan said, a friendly smile on his face.

_He really is handsome_, Alex realized. _Too bad he doesn't have a prayer_. "Likewise, Angie, Nathan," she said, offering them both a handshake, pulling her hand from Nathan's very quickly.

"Maybe we'll be on the same team," Antonio piped up, and Angie nodded.

"Either way, maybe we can do this again sometime," Nathan said, looking at Alex. "A lot of good movies on their way out… or maybe next time we can just do dinner. Sarah, would you and Miguel like to join Angie and me for our regular pizza night tomorrow? We're going to Pepe's. It's not much, but I'd like you to join-"

"We have plans tomorrow night," Alex interrupted, lying. She saw Antonio looking at her, surprise written on his face.

After a moment of silence, Nathan nodded. "Sure, of course. Well, maybe some other time. I'm sure we'll see each other again. Soccer games and all." He smiled. Either Alex's blunt rejection hadn't bothered him, or he was decent enough not to wear his disappointment openly.

"Sure. Goodnight," Alex said, and with her arm across Antonio's shoulders, she walked to her car.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked once they were on the way home.

"Do what?"

"You know. Say we had plans. We don't have plans."

"How do you know we don't have plans?" she rose an eyebrow, smirking. "Maybe I just haven't told you."

"Fine. Do we?"

"No."

He sighed, and sat quietly for a moment. "You're the one always telling me to try to make friends."

He had a point; she _had_ been encouraging him to make friends, thinking it would help his homesickness. "Angie's a sweet girl," she agreed.

"Do you like her dad?"

"Sure. He's a nice guy," Alex said, noncommittally.

"But do you _like _him?" Antonio was smiling, mischievously.

"I've only known him for a few hours, Sweetie."

"So? He likes you."

Alex decided to do something she very rarely did. She played dumb. "What makes you think that?"

"Angie told me."

Boom. There it was. Incontrovertible evidence. Alex swallowed hard, not responding.

"She asked me if you're single, because her dad wants to know," he continued.

"When did she ask you this?" Alex said, hearing her own voice raise a couple of octaves as her heart pounded faster. This situation was rapidly becoming more frustrating.

"In the line at the concession stand," he said, smiling.

"And what did you say?"

"That you don't have a boyfriend."

Alex sighed, annoyed. "I wish you hadn't said that. I'm not interested in Angie's dad."

"Why not? He's nice."

She frowned. "I'm just not, okay?"

"Alex?"

"Yeah."

"Do you have a boyfriend in New York?"

She was quiet. She supposed she was lucky that the subject had never come up before, but Antonio was still at the age – or so she thought – when kids would rather eat dirt than acknowledge that their parents, and that's what she was to him by now, had love lives. "I don't have a boyfriend in New York," she answered honestly, pulling into their driveway. "But that doesn't mean I want a boyfriend here."

He shook his head, not understanding and growing tired of trying. "I don't want to tell Angie that my dad's in jail," he admitted, referring to the cover story Agent Hammond had given them when they moved to Virginia.

The FBI had allowed Alex to assume custody of Antonio, but had had to fabricate documents and a believable story as to how a white woman would be the sole guardian of a Latino boy. Their new "truth" was that Alex's ex-husband, Juan Reyes, had fathered Antonio during a previous marriage. Juan was a complete shipwreck of a human being, an abusive husband who'd broken Alex's shoulder – explaining her injury – and then gotten himself thrown into jail on his third DUI.

"You don't have to tell her anything," Alex said. "Just tell her your parents are divorced. So are hers. She'll understand that."

His frown was now as deep as hers. "My parents were murdered," he stated. "I don't like having to pretend my dad's alive and in jail."

"I don't like pretending, either," she said, unlocking their front door and following him into the kitchen. She closed the door behind them. Any other night, she would probably allow him to stay up past his bedtime, make them both hot cocoa and sit on the couch, telling their favorite stories about New York. He always listened attentively as she told him about growing up in New York, trips to visit her parents' families in Boston, and summers in Martha's Vineyard. Conversely, Antonio's parents had not had much money, but they had loved him very much, and his memories were almost entirely positive.

That night, Antonio knelt beside his bed as he always did before crawling into it, and said a prayer for all of those for whom he cared, many of whom were in New York and had no idea what had become of him. Alex watched from the hallway, her stomach doing a small flip when he remembered to say a prayer for Olivia and Elliot, the two detectives who had helped him so much during the Connors trial.

**-19-**

**New York Police Department**

**16****th**** Precinct, Manhattan Special Victims Unit**

**Saturday, 11:30 p.m.**

**(Present Day)**

Two hours after it was made, Olivia was still reeling from Billy Grant's revelation. "What the hell are the odds of this happening?" she asked Elliot, pacing the squad room nervously. They were two of the last cops left at the precinct, even Cragen having gone home about an hour before.

"What, of Grant waiting until he's arrested to start talking? To lay the blame on someone else?" Elliot huffed. "Odds of _this_ happening aren't too shabby, Liv."

"Except that he's fingered his drug dealer, who just happens to be the cousin of Cesar Velez," Olivia said, no longer trying to contain the smile that was spreading across her face. Elliot was a bit startled to see that, for the first time in weeks, Olivia's head was held a bit higher, her confident swagger seemed to have replaced the head-facing-down stoop he had hated getting used to.

"Calm down, Liv," he cautioned, not wanting to upset her, but knowing the importance of not letting her get carried away. "It might all just be a convenient story. Say this Serge guy really exists, say he really is Velez's cousin… we still like Billy for the murder."

"But if we find Serge and get him doing something wrong – anything – we arrest him and try to get Velez's location out of him!"

"Whoa, there. Why would he give that information up? If Velez is my cousin, I'm a hell of a lot more likely to do a few years than give up his 20 and get myself killed."

Olivia stopped pacing. Elliot had a point. "So what if Billy's telling the truth and Serge killed Mason Ferrars?"

"Olivia, three hours ago you were as convinced as I am that Billy's our man."

"Three hours ago I didn't know that his dealer was in with Velez. I didn't know his dealer had equal access and opportunity."

"He had nowhere near _equal_ access and opportunity, Olivia," Elliot said, sighing. "We have the word of a drug addicted murder suspect that Serge is Velez's cousin and was ever in the apartment – and only once for sure. Unless we find Serge, get a DNA sample, and it matches the semen in Mason's pants – we've got nothing."

"Melinda didn't find any prints on the splinters from the bat, huh?"

"No – they likely broke off the top, so the attacker – _Billy Grant_ – never would've touched them."

"We need the bat."

"Well, Billy never went home, so we know where he _didn't_ stash it."

Olivia nodded. "Elliot, don't you see? If we can find Serge, and it turns out he raped and killed Mason, we can pressure him to give us information on Velez. I'm going to Manhattan Valley tomorrow, we can-"

"Okay, Partner, just back up a little," Elliot said, wishing he could indulge Olivia's fantasy but knowing he would be doing her no favors if he didn't at least try to serve as the voice of reason. "We have a perfectly good suspect with every reason to lie in there. Sure, we should look for this Serge guy, see if he's out there somewhere. But when that DNA analysis comes back on Monday and says Billy's our guy, I've gotta know you're not going to risk that conviction to go on a fishing expedition for Velez's supposed cousin."

Olivia sighed, and stopped her pacing. "This is the first possible lead I've had in five years, El," she said, quietly. "Don't take this away from me."

"No, no, I wouldn't do that," he said, honestly. "You want to keep looking for Serge? Okay. But we're not gonna ignore that all the evidence points to Billy just because it would be convenient to you for it to point to this other guy."

"Convenient?" Olivia barked, and Elliot immediately regretted his choice of word. "In five years, this is the only possible link I've found to the man whose continued existence is keeping Alex away from me. It's not 'convenient,' Elliot. It's the only hope I have that one day…" Her voice broke, and she was unable to stop the tears from escaping her eyes.

"Hey." Elliot's voice was gentle, his hands comforting as he reached out and hugged Olivia to him, patting her back tenderly until her tears subsided. "Come on. I'll give you a ride home. On the way, we'll call Fin, see if he remembers any dealers or suppliers named Serge in that area from Narcotics."

Silently, she nodded and got into his car.


	9. Chapter 9

**-20-**

**New York City **

**2/23/05**

**(Three years ago)**

At 6 a.m, the alarm clock interrupted Alex and Olivia from a peaceful sleep. They were wrapped in each other's arms, a tangle of limbs and sheets, Olivia's lips pressed into Alex's neck, Alex's back pressed into Olivia's chest.

Reaching over to the bedside table, Alex turned off the alarm and turned back to face the still-sleeping detective. _I hate to wake you_, she thought, studying Olivia's beautiful features for several long minutes before finally placing a tender kiss on the other woman's lips.

Olivia hadn't yet opened her eyes when her body began responding to Alex's touches. She stretched languidly, opening her mouth and granting passage to Alex's warm tongue. They stretched together, their bodies waking to the beautiful sensation of being together. Olivia's covered Alex's mouth with her own full, swollen lips, and Alex sighed as she pulled Olivia on top of her, moaned when Olivia's hips began to rock against her own.

"Do we-" Olivia started to ask.

"Yes, we have time," Alex assured her in a whisper, smiling, dreamily looking into Olivia's warm brown eyes, thinking that they were the kindest eyes she had ever seen.

Olivia smiled from above her, pressing her open mouth against Alex's throat, tracing her tongue down the younger woman's neck. Alex shuddered against Olivia's body, wrapping her arms around the detective's muscled back, pressing Olivia's body down against her own. Tiny beads of sweat formed between them, the result of their warm bodies pressed closely together, and every movement seemed slower, more sensual, as a result.

"Liv," Alex whispered into Olivia's ear as she ran her fingers through Olivia's dark hair, "I love you so much…"

Olivia moaned her response, kissing her way down Alex's body. She paused only for a moment at Alex's breasts, using her hands to cup and fondle them as her mouth made its way down Alex's flat stomach, through her glistening blond curls, and finally to the swollen lips that she parted with her tongue. Olivia felt a surge of arousal, along with something like pride at knowing that she could cause this reaction in the other woman.

Knowing this was likely to be her last time with Alex for who knew how long, Olivia fought her basest urges and tried to take her time. Placing one hand at the small of Alex's back, she lifted the other woman's hips toward her mouth. Alex bent her legs at the knee, granting Olivia better access to her core. Olivia inhaled deeply, breathing in the sweet and spicy scent that belonged only to Alex. She kissed against Alex's clit, flicking her tongue across the small nub of flesh before replacing it with her thumb, stroking softly. Olivia heard herself moan in pleasure when Alex's fingers tightened on her shoulder, a response to the single finger that she was dragging across Alex's slit, just barely dipping it into the other woman before withdrawing it again.

"Liv…" she heard Alex's voice plead. "I need you… inside me…"

Her request was heard as a command, as Olivia entered her with two fingers curled forward, rubbing at her most sensitive flesh, extending, and then curling forward again, joined by Olivia's soft tongue. Alex clutched a pillow over her mouth, biting down, afraid to scream as loud as she needed to. Her hips bucked off the bed, only encouraging Olivia to push into her harder and deeper, meeting Alex's hips thrust for thrust.

Moments later, Alex's orgasm overtook her body, sending her into a series of ecstatic convulsions that didn't cease until Olivia rose and wrapped her arms around Alex, crading her head close to her own breasts. "Shhhh," she whispered, kissing Alex's lips, letting her taste her own wetness on Olivia's lips. "It's okay."

"No it's not," Alex said, suddenly weeping. "I can't say goodbye to you again," she explained.

Olivia was silent, holding Alex still for what seemed like the shortest half hour of her life. Finally, Alex rose and silently walked to the shower. For a brief moment, Olivia considered joining her, but knew that they would never be ready for court on time if she did.

Olivia had taken a short shower when Alex finished, towel-drying her hair and using a small amount of gel to complete her just-fell-out-of-bed-this-gorgeous look. She left the bathroom to see Alex sitting on the couch, looking serious. Taking her place beside Alex, she brought the younger woman into a lingering kiss, and then was the first to break their reverie. "What time is it?"

Alex checked her watch. "Seven forty-five… Elliot will be here in fifteen minutes."

Olivia nodded, pulling Alex closer to her. "You feel okay?"

"Yeah, I'm as ready as I can be," Alex said, nodding slowly. "I just have to make sure I find my chance to say all I need to say. I'm not sure I can rely on Casey to give me the opening I need to – oh," she stopped herself, not sure if she was inadvertently offending Olivia. Maybe she and Casey were friends. "Not that I'm not sure she's perfectly competent, but…"

"Actually, you might do well to look for the chances where you find them," Olivia smirked. "I know you're going to do great."

"Liv, there's so much I want to say to you," Alex said, her voice wearing the heavy weight brought on by two years of longing. "Things I can't really say in front of Elliot…"

"I know, Sweetheart," Olivia said, kissing Alex's lips sweetly. "Me, too. This isn't enough time, one night… We said a lot of things, I think, even if we didn't do much talking."

Alex chuckled. "You're right. Still, I'm sad that we haven't had a chance to, you know… have an actual relationship. Yet." She added the last word quickly, afraid that leaving it unspoken would reveal the doubt she still felt, despite not wanting to.

"We've had dinner," Olivia pointed out. "We've gone out for drinks…"

"Drinks with the guys, and dinners to talk about work and ignore the lesbian elephant in the room," Alex said, smiling brightly. "After which we'd shake hands or – maybe, if we felt especially daring – give each other a quick hug – and then go back to our respective apartments."

Olivia smiled. Alex had just uttered the word. Lesbian. The first time either of them had acknowledged the preeminent reason their feelings for one another had gone unacknowledged for so long. "Are you a lesbian, Alex?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

Alex looked at Olivia a long moment before shrugging. "For the time you knew me, I wasn't much of _anything_," she said. "I had a couple of girlfriends as a teenager and in college. In law school, I didn't date much at all, and when I did, it was only because a nice-looking man with a bright future was a needed accessory. I don't think I've ever been in love before. I thought something was wrong with me, like I was missing a gene or something. So, no, last night wasn't the first time I've ever been with a woman. " Olivia couldn't help feeling jealous, even though these mystery Other Women had obviously entered and left the picture years before. "But Olivia…" Alex said, bringing the detective's hand to her lips and kissing each slender finger, "last night _was_ the first time I was with the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with."

"Alex," Olivia breathed, tearing up at Alex's admission. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure," the blonde responded, in closer to Olivia on the sofa. "These two years without you – knowing how you felt – or rather, not knowing, but having reason to hope… they're the only reason I'm still here, Liv. When I found out that my mother died…"

"You read it in the paper," Olivia recalled Alex's words.

"Yeah. Hammond still lets me have the _Times_. He brings me a copy every now and then, and he told me to read the Obits. I didn't know what I'd see. My first thought was that something had happened to you." Alex's lip trembled. "And I didn't see your name, and I was relieved. And then I saw the headline. 'Philanthropist Socialite Dies at 67.' Then I realized the woman in the picture was my mother."

Olivia squeezed Alex's shoulders, trying to be comforting in their last moments together.

"The obit was lovely. Talked about her charity work, about her friends and her foundations," Alex sniffed. "It mentioned Father and his work, and said that, 'Mrs. Cabot's only child, daughter Alexandra, was shot and killed in 2005.' And there it was. My mother died thinking that she'd outlived me. God knows… if she knew I was alive, maybe she'd have held on." Alex looked away from Olivia, not wanting to break into tears minutes before her court appearance.

Olivia stroked Alex's back lovingly, letting her be still. "I met your mother at your funeral," she said quietly. "She was a beautiful, dignified woman. I couldn't help thinking about how much you favor her; about how you'll look so much like her in thirty years or so," Olivia smiled softly. "Alex, she was so proud of you. You have to know that. She was so proud of how you spent your life…"

Alex nodded. "I know."

"She gave me your necklace," Olivia confided.

"I wondered where that came from," Alex laughed, glad for the reason to smile.

"I haven't taken it off. I hope that's okay. It helps me feel like you're always with me."

"I think that's beautiful, Baby," Alex said, pressing her lips against Olivia's again.

Olivia was quiet for a moment, and then confessed, "Alex? I've found the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, too."

Alex feigned shock. "Does… does she _know about us?_"

Olivia laughed out loud, so hard that her own tears pooled. Alex joined her, and they were both glad for this brief moment of levity. It wasn't until they heard a knock on the door, interrupting their laughter, that their faces again grew serious.

"It's Elliot," came the low voice. "Everyone up?"

Olivia looked at the clock beside the bed. 8:02. Elliot had probably been outside the door for a few minutes, giving them a little extra time.

"Be there in a second," Alex called. She turned back to Olivia. "Ready?"

"Will I see you after court?"

Alex nodded. "Sure, I don't see why Hammond won't let me stop by to say goodbye. I don't know if we'll get much time alone, but…"

Olivia shrugged. "We'll find a few minutes. There's something I still have to tell you."

"Can't you tell me now?" Alex mock-whined.

"No," Olivia insisted. "You have to come see me to find out. But just… Alex? When you get lonely, and when you need something to hold onto… know that when you finally come back to me, I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you know that all of this was worth it."

"Oh, Babe," Alex said, standing before Olivia, holding her hands. "I already know you will." With a final look in Olivia's direction, Alex walked over to the door and let Elliot into the room.


	10. Chapter 10

**-21-**

**New York City **

**16****th**** Precinct, Manhattan Special Victims Unit**

**Sunday, 1:30 p.m.**

**(Present Day)**

Olivia slept fitfully, and when she finally arrived at the precinct on Sunday afternoon, she felt anything but rested.

"Olivia," John said with a nod. "You okay? You look a little…"

She responded with a half-wave and a head shake. She didn't want John to have to come up with a diplomatic way to tell her how she looked; not when she already knew she looked like hell. She felt like it, too.

She had lain awake for what felt like hours, alternately imagining she was finally on the road leading to the capture of Cesar Velez and trying to talk herself out of believing that the end of her agony might really be just around the corner. Elliot had been right; even if Billy Grant was telling the truth – and he had plenty of motivation to lie – it didn't necessarily mean what she wanted it to. Picking Velez's cousin up on a charge – even something like this – didn't guarantee that he would cooperate, let alone flip.

_Not unless we can offer him something tremendous_, she realized. _And will the Feds be willing to deal with a child killer? _ She knew that, in any other circumstance – circumstances in which the possible return of Alex Cabot was not a factor – she would never entertain the notion, and probably shouldn't now.

Olivia had stretched and buried her face into the soft pillow beside her, breathing in a familiar scent. In a particularly sappy mood the previous Valentine's Day, she had purchased a bottle of Alex's favorite perfume, and occasionally sprayed the floral scent onto her bed sheets in the hope that when her mind wandered to their only night together, the memories would somehow be enhanced, become more vivid.

In the squad room, looking at John as he read his computer screen and then stopped to answer his ringing cell phone, she wondered where Alex was at that moment – was she happy? Lonely? Scared? Bored? Was she thinking of Olivia?

"OK, I'll let her know," John said, closing his phone and turning to face Olivia. They were the only people in the bullpen, rare even for a Sunday. "Fin's over in Manhattan Valley, talking to the narcotics cops over there, seeing if anyone's heard of a dealer named Serge."

Olivia breathed deeply, and nodded. "He didn't know anything himself?"

"New York's a big place, Liv. Probably doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah, I know. I want to go talk to them, too." She walked over to a drawer underneath a bulletin board, fumbling for the pair of keys that would start her work vehicle.

"Actually, you might want to join me instead."

"Yeah? You got somethin' more exciting than trying to track down a link to Velez?" she asked. Obviously, Cragen had filled them in – she was relieved and a little impressed, though not surprised, that Fin was already over in the Valley trying to see if the information led anywhere. In addition to wanting to catch Mason Ferrars' killer, the guys were invested – perhaps not as invested as Olivia, but invested nonetheless – in tracking down a possible link to the drug lord who had ordered Alex killed.

"I've been doing a little digging into the background of one Jordan Ferrars this morning," John said, his lips drawn in a thin line.

"I thought we were all agreed that Jordan's clear," Olivia said, taking a seat at Elliot's desk, next to John.

"Well, you know me." He didn't have to say anything else, and Olivia passed on the opportunity to tease him. She knew that John's notorious skepticism was part of what made him such a terrific detective. "I know he was willing to give up all the fluids, and he's a respected member of society, yada yada." He sipped from the large mug of coffee on his desk and made a face, altering Olivia that she was better off making a fresh pot.

"So…" she said, folding her fingers on top of the desk and looking at him intently.

"So… I got a little curious when I couldn't find any public records on Jordan Ferrars predating 1994," Munch said. "He's 38 years old – so you'd think there'd be something. Birth certificate, driver's license, parking tickets, quickie Vegas wedding. Something. But this guy was never born, never had a license, never got hitched. In fact, the only time he comes up in public records is to let me know that in 1991, someone changed his legal name to… Jordan Ferrars."

Olivia's eyebrows narrowed, her attention focused on John's report. "His birth name?"

John gestured to his screen, and Olivia stood behind him and looked down at the picture frozen on his monitor. A driver's license featuring a photo that was unquestionably the teenaged Jordan Ferrars – same floppy dark hair, the same blue eyes that she had seen in photographs of his son, Mason.

"Olivia," John said, exhaling slowly. "Meet Timothy Grant."

"Grant?" Olivia said, confused. "He's related to Billy Grant?"

John shrugged. "I can't say to a certainty, but it looks that way. I ordered the lab to run a DNA comparison to let us know whether Jordan and Billy are related. If it turns out they're brothers, their DNA will be practically identical. We'll know as early as tomorrow morning."

Olivia stood and pulled her coat off a hook in the back of the room. "I'm not sure what it means if they _are_ related," she admitted. "But why in the hell wouldn't they have mentioned that already?"

"What, that Billy's not just the older kid's tutor, but he's an uncle?" Munch asked, standing and collecting his belongings, then walking out to the car with Olivia. "If that's the case, it explains why Jordan's protecting him, maybe why he'd keep his little brother's drug secret even from Paula."

"We'll want to question him away from Paula," Olivia mused. "There's a chance she doesn't know about his background, and he might be more willing to spill about Billy – and Billy's connections to Serge – if he thinks we're protecting his secret."

Munch nodded. "You read my mind," he stated as they filed into the car and took off for the Ferrars' apartment.

**-22-**

**New York City **

**Home of Jordan and Paula Ferrars**

**Sunday, 3:00 p.m.**

**(Present Day)**

"Detectives," Jordan Ferrars said, surprised to see Munch and Benson when he opened the door. "Come in, please. Do you have news about the investigation?"

"We do," John said, smiling brightly. He was looking forward to watching Jordan's reaction when he dropped the particular bombshell he was carrying. "May we come in?"

"Of course," Jordan said, opening the door a little wider. "Let me get my wife."

"Actually, Mr. Ferrars, you might not want to do that yet," Olivia said, gently. "It might be better if we spoke to you in private for a few minutes first."

"OK," Jordan said, nodding. "Thanks for your discretion – you know, it's painful for me to hear the details. Paula, though…" his voice trailed off as he offered them seats on the pristine living room sofa. "Paula really shouldn't know all the facts, they upset her terribly. She can barely function."

"Mr. Ferrars," John said, cutting to the chase, "does Paula know all the details about _your_ life?"

"Like what?" he asked innocently, not reacting to the irritated glare this illicited from Olivia.

"Like the fact that Jordan Ferrars isn't your real name," Olivia pointed out, exasperation in her voice. "What was your problem with Timothy Grant?"

Jordan exhaled slowly. "There's nothing illegal about having your name changed," he pointed out.

"Nevertheless, people don't usually do it unless there's a reason," John stated. "What was yours?"

Jordan looked around the apartment, as if to make sure that they were not being overheard. "Paula doesn't know," he said, quietly. He stood, walked to a nearby bar, and poured himself a cup of dark liquid. "Billy Grant, your _suspect_," he said the word with disdain, making no secret that he still believed in the other man's innocence, "is my half-brother. We have the same father – Jeffrey Grant." He reclaimed his spot on the chair and drank from the glass he had just poured.

"We know Billy was in foster care," Olivia said. "Want to tell us why?"

"Our old man was a real piece of shit, that's why," Jordan said with a disdain in his voice that belied his upper-class, respectable exterior. "Look, he used to beat our mother. She had to drink herself half to death to survive it. She left us for a new boyfriend when Billy was just a little kid," Jordan brushed a lock of floppy black hair back. Olivia recognized that he was uncomfortable, but he didn't appear to have a guilty conscience. "As soon as I turned 16 and saved up enough for an old car, I was gone. I shouldn't have left my little brother, okay? Not with him. But I did." He sighed, and finished his glass.

"So you left, you changed your name, you went to college and started to make something of yourself," John said, finishing his story. "Meanwhile, your dad gets himself thrown into prison, and poor Billy's stuck in the system."

"Know what happened to your little brother in the-" Olivia started, but Jordan interrupted her.

"Yes, of course I know what happened to him," Jordan said, his voice raising. "And it broke my heart that I wasn't able to stop it. But I was trying to make my life, trying to be somebody. And then I was. As soon as I had money, had an established life, I went looking for Billy, and I found him."

"You found him in juvy hall," Olivia pointed out, rubbing it in that Billy had floundered without his older brother's protection.

"Yeah," Jordan said, stiffly. "On his second possession bust. He's a smart kid, a good kid. _And he didn't kill my son_," he choked out, his voice cracking at the last. "Billy has drug problems, but he's not violent. Look what happened to him. He'd never do that to another kid."

"Actually, statistics say the exact opposite," John pointed out. "Children who are abused are far more likely to become abusers themselves."

"Whatever," Jordan sighed, closing his eyes, still having difficulty discussing these painful memories.

"Jordan," Olivia tried a different tack, her voice softening as she asked, "why keep this secret? Why not tell us earlier that Billy's your brother?"

"My wife doesn't know," Jordan said miserably. "She doesn't know Billy's background, his drug problems." He looked Olivia squarely in the eye. "Put yourself in my place, Detective. Can you imagine how it feels to fall in love with someone so perfect – someone who's had every advantage from birth – and tell them you come from where _I_ come from? That your father's a lousy abusive bastard, your mother's a drunk who abandoned you, and you ran out on your own kid brother?" He was quiet for a moment. "I'm not proud of any of that, and while it may seem important that I chose to keep it a secret for the past several days, I can assure you that it has absolutely nothing to do with solving this case. The fact that Billy is my brother only makes me even more certain that he is not Mason's killer."

Olivia met Jordan's gaze and said nothing. The truth was that it was not so very difficult for her to see the situation from his point of view. She and Alex had never discussed it at length, but their backgrounds could not have been more different. Alex was the beautiful, privileged child of a family firmly ensconced in New England society. Blessed with loving and devoted parents who had been able to give her every material comfort and educational opportunity, Alex had turned out to be as remarkable as it was possible for a person to be. Olivia had always admired Alex as much for who she _wasn't_ as for who she was – despite her background, she wasn't spoiled, petty or entitled. She was magnificent.

Olivia's own childhood had been anything but idyllic. At an early age, she had learned that the reason she had never met her father, never even learned his name, was because he was a stranger who had attacked and raped her mother, who had been a college student when it happened. Olivia's relationship with her mother was marked with beautiful highs and heart-breaking lows. When her mother was sober, she had been attentive and loving; but as Olivia grew older, those sober moments were fewer and farther between. Still, it had not been as nightmarish as the hell that Jordan Ferrars was describing.

"You're going to have to tell her, Jordan," Olivia said, softly. "Because it's going to come out that the victim's father is the brother of the man who is, as of now, our only suspect."

"Only suspect?" Jordan looked surprised. "Billy hasn't told you?"

"Told us what?" John asked, leaning in.

"Well, about the arrangement. I thought that's how you knew." Jordan wore the deer-in-the-headlights expression of someone who knew he'd just said too much.

_I swear_, John thought with annoyance, _some people just aren't cut out to be part of big conspiracies. _

"I paid for Billy to go to rehab, and then I took him in as a tutor to my children when he convinced me he'd gotten clean," Jordan explained. "Paula liked the idea of having a responsible male living here. I work a lot of hours, sometimes I don't get home until really late. She always got along with Billy, and I've certainly considered telling her the whole truth before. But when I finally had the nerve, I started noticing that Billy was getting home at odd hours, forgetting things, was generally distracted."

"You could tell he was using again," Olivia finished for him.

"Yeah, but it was worse than that. I found out Billy owed his dealer a great deal of money," Jordan kept talking, looking first to John and then back to Olivia, both of whom were propped on the edge of the couch, listening intently while he told his story. "So one day I come home for lunch – usually, I eat at the office – and Billy's in here with some Latino guy called…" Jordan screwed up his face, thinking. "Sergio. Serge. That's it."

"Sergio is the dealer?" Olivia said, almost licking her lips with anticipation. This was the good stuff. "What did you see them doing?"

"Arguing," Jordan answered. "I confronted Billy then, told him if he had a problem, just to tell me about it. So they both told me. Billy owed this guy about fifty thousand dollars, and told us both that he'd kill Billy if he didn't get his money by the end of the day."

"What did you tell him?" Munch asked.

"Come on," Jordan shook his head. "I've done well, but I'm not _that_ liquid. I can't come up with that kind of cash in a day – not without alerting my wife and raising quite a few eyebrows. Still – the fact that Sergio had found our house, had followed Billy home and knew that we had some pretty nice things – well, we had to take his threat seriously."

"So what'd you do?"

Jordan closed his eyes and shook his head. "I think… I think I need to get a lawyer."

Olivia rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, exhaling slowly. _Shit. This interview's over_.

"Come on down to the station with us, Mr. Ferrars," John said, pronouncing Jordan's name with a mock civility. "We'll give your attorney a call on the way and have him meet us there."

"Let me talk to my wife?" Jordan asked, standing.

"In front of us," Olivia ordered. "You're not leaving this room, or our sight."

Jordan called his wife into the room, and Olivia listened as he whispered to her and watched as her face registered shock and fear. She couldn't make out the words, but knew that Jordan had just told her at least as much as he had just shared with them.

John's phone rang. Olivia glanced at the name flashing on the caller ID – 'Mr. Fugly' – and knew that it was Fin. "What'cha got?" John answered, keeping his voice low. "I'll tell Liv, yeah. Be careful out there. Okay." He closed the phone and turned to Olivia. "Fin's found our man – Sergio Medina. He's well known on 107th Street. He is, as it turns out, one of Cesar Velez's favorite nephews."

"Do we have him in custody?" Olivia asked, daring to hope.

"Not yet. Fin's got a lead on his 20. He's going with a couple of the Narcs guys and looking for him at a few places over on that side…"

"You okay with him doing this without you?" Olivia asked.

"I need to be with you," John said with a half-smirk.

"I'm a big girl. I can handle an interrogation by myself," she pointed out, a little irritated.

"That's not what I mean. This one's personal," John pointed out. They had never discussed Olivia's relationship with Alex, but they hadn't had to. It had been obvious to everyone, if not before Alex's first return than certainly after. "No offense, Liv – you're a great cop. But you care so much about this one – more than usually, even – and I'm gonna make sure you get to handle this one personally, but I'm also gonna make sure your emotions don't get the better of you."

Olivia nodded. She saw Jordan kissing Paula goodbye, and knew she didn't have time to argue.

Jordan swallowed hard, scared to death. "Look, Detectives… I never meant for anything to happen to my boy, I just…"

"Just wanted to commit insurance fraud, just wanted to bail your little brother out of a tight spot to assuage your own guilty conscience," John said, not backing down an inch. "Forgive me for not feeling terribly sympathetic."

"Whether you intended to do so or not," Olivia pointed out, standing and preparing to follow John out of the room, "you exposed both of your sons and your wife to incredible danger when you agreed to let a street thug break into your home. Because of your recklessness, your little boy – the little boy whom you claim to love so much - was raped and murdered."

Paula, who was already crying, choked back a sob, and Olivia felt a bit embarrassed for having chastised her husband so bluntly in front of her only moments after she'd found out so many ugly truths.

"Mrs. Ferrars, we'll bring your husband back once we're done with him," Olivia said, placing her hand on the small of Jordan's back and leading him out the door.

Outside, Olivia lifted her hand to her forehead, trying to see past the flashing lights of the paparazzi cameras as she and John escorted Jordan into the car they had parked nearby. She couldn't even make out a single question amid the din of voices filling her senses; all she was conscious of was the fact that, as big a leap as it seemed from Mason Ferrars to Cesar Velez, the moment when she once again held Alex in her arms might be getting closer with each tick of the clock.


	11. Chapter 11

**-23-**

**New York City**

**16****th**** Precinct, Manhattan Special Victims Unit**

**Sunday, 6:00 p.m.**

**(Present Day)**

Donald Cragen could remember only a few occasions in his 37 years with the New

York Police Department when so many members of the press assembled outside a precinct building. He had interrupted his day off – one of the first he had taken in weeks – when John's phone call had come a few hours earlier.

"We're bringing Jordan in now," John had announced a few hours earlier.

"His lawyer's meeting you there?" Cragen asked.

"Yeah. And you'll never believe who it is."

"Don't tell me."

"Trevor Langan."

"Figures," Cragen had grumbled. "Never met a camera he didn't like. OK. This is going to make quite an impression on the boys and girls outside."

Half an hour later, Ferrars was at the station and placed in an interrogation room to await Langan's arrival. Fin called John to confirm that he and his former coworkers in Narcotics were in hot pursuit of Sergio Medina, after obtaining an address from an ex-girlfriend in Harlem.

After leaving Ferrars in the interrogation room, Olivia joined Cragen, Casey, and John in the bullpen.

"We only have half the story," she'd muttered to John after leaving Ferrars in the room with the rookie. "You _know_ he agreed to let Medina's thugs break in and steal the bat – he pays off Billy's debt, and he gets to claim the loss on his insurance, so he's out nothing but the bat's sentimental value."

"Hello, Detective Benson," Casey said, a little indignantly. _What _was Olivia's problem?

Olivia nodded a hello.

Casey continued, "I need you to get everything Ferrars has told you on the record; and a description of everything he knows about the men Medina sent into his apartment. Of course, even if he does know something, Langan's going to advise him to remain silent."

"Fuck Trevor Langan. Fuck him and the horse he rode in on," Olivia snarled.

John had smirked. He still didn't know exactly how Langan had wronged Olivia, but he knew it must have been a doozy. She wasn't any defense attorney's greatest fan, but had always seemed to especially have it in for Langan.

"I'm very hesitant to give him an incentive to talk," Casey shrugged. "Jordan's been lying all along, and he might be lying now. Maybe he knew that the bat wasn't the target."

"You think Jordan Ferrars arranged his own son's murder?" Cragen asked, his eyebrow raised.

"I think we can't trust him," Casey clarified. "Not unless either he or Billy comes up with a name. I doubt Sergio Medina does his own dirty work."

"Fin's en route to Medina right now," Olivia informed her. "Any luck and we'll have him here by the end of the night."

Casey's cell phone rang. "Novak," she answered, and then glanced at everyone in the room. "Langan's here," she said, closing the phone and replacing it in her coat pocket. "Let's see where this goes."

**-24-**

**Reyes Residence**

**Williamsburg, VA **

**Sunday, 7:45 p.m.**

**(Present Day)**

Alex knew that the pizza she bought at the grocery store and threw into the oven was a far cry from the restaurant variety. She also knew that to an eleven-year-old boy, her own presence was a poor substitution for that of young Angie Hendrix. Nevertheless, she marched grandly into the living room with a smile plastered firmly on her face, and announced that dinner was served.

Antonio barely looked up from his seat in front of the television. "So, these are the big plans we had?"

She looked at him quizzically, inviting him to elaborate.

"I get that you're not interested in Mr. Hendrix, for whatever reason," he said, something strange and unrecognizable in his voice. "But I like Angie, and it's not like we get asked to have dinner with people that often. I don't see why you had to tell them that we had plans when all we're doing is sitting at home eating Tombstone."

She looked at him with consideration. In the three years he had spent living with her, she had clearly been rubbing off. His nature was sweet and amiable – that hadn't changed – but he was growing less cautious about questioning authority. Just as she had once driven her parents crazy by never raising an objection to a house rule without having already anticipated their response and developed counterpoints to whichever arguments they might present, Antonio clearly intended to attack both the logic and equity of her decision to turn down Nathan Hendrix's offer of a trip to Pepe's.

Despite feeling bone tired and thoroughly homesick, she knew she would never be able to face herself if she fell back on the "because I said so" card, so she acknowledged his statement with a nod and replied, "If I had agreed to spend time with Nathan two nights in a row, he would have gotten the wrong idea."

"What idea?"

"That I'm interested in him."

"Why don't you want to be his friend?"

"It's not that I don't want to be his friend." She felt herself becoming irritated, and motioned for Antonio to join her at the table.

"Can't we eat here?" He gestured to the couch.

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"We're going to eat at the table like a civilized family."

"Whatever," he said, standing up from the couch and slumping miserably into a chair.

She briefly considered letting that one slide, but ultimately decided that she couldn't. If there was anything that had been drilled into the head of the only child of Alexander and Julianne Cabot, it was that there was absolutely no excuse for poor table manners. "Enough," she cautioned, hearing the evidence of her annoyance in her own voice. "If there's something you want to discuss, let's discuss it, but you're not going to just sit over there moping all night. It's unbecoming."

"Fine," he said, his eyes flashing. His voice lowered, and she recognized the element that had seemed so strange and nameless earlier. It was confrontation. Fearlessness. "You want to know how I feel?"

"Yes, of course." She was a bit apprehensive about where this was going, but relieved that they were going to air whatever it was.

"I think it sucks that I can't go to New York and see my real family and my real friends," he said, his dark eyes focused on her.

She exhaled slowly, pushing her plate away from her, her appetite shrinking from its already tiny state. "You know what? I agree. It _does_ suck that we can't go back to New York." She knew he was anticipating her to argue; attempt to placate him with her usual insistence that they were doing what had to be done, that their lives were in danger in New York, and that their only option was to try to make the most of their lives in Virginia. She found that she didn't have the energy to repeat the same tired arguments anymore.

"Well, why don't we go back?" Antonio asked, his eyes widening. "We could go tonight."

"You know that's not an option."

"I don't care if it's not safe," he said, indignantly, anticipating the rest of her argument. "I miss my uncles and my aunts. I miss my friends and my school. I miss not having to remember lies and not having to pretend to be someone I'm not!"

She leaned back in her chair, willing herself to listen to Antonio as he yelled and gave voice to everything she had been feeling herself. "You're right," she said, her voice even. "Ours is not an easy life."

"It's not _our_ life, even," he said, tears spilling out of his eyes. "It's not _fair_."

"No, Honey, it's not," she said, reaching across the table to cover his hand with hers. "Nothing about this is fair."

He looked at her with liquid brown eyes, and her mind was drawn to the last time she'd looked into another pair of beautiful chocolate eyes – that morning in the courtroom, the day she and Antonio had both offered the testimony that had put Liam Connors in jail for the rest of his lousy life.

"Don't you want to go back?" he beseeched.

"Of course," she admitted. "I think about New York every day." She immediately wondered whether that confession had been a mistake. "I miss my family, too," she confided. "I miss my friends. I miss my job, my apartment… I had a life there, too."

"What happened to your apartment?"

"They sold it after I left the first time," she answered. Saying she had 'left' sounded somehow less finite than the truth. Her family had sold the penthouse after she had _died._ "So, even when I go back… I won't be going back to exactly what I left."

"I won't either," Antonio said softly, his tears still flowing. Alex stood behind his chair, her arms loosely hugging him. "I'm scared my friends won't still be there." He faced her squarely. "When I grow up, can I go back? Can I decide to go back?"

She frowned, wondering if it really was as simple as deciding to go back, and knowing in her heart that it wasn't. "Honey, I sincerely hope that by the time you grow up, we'll have been back for a long time," she said softly.


	12. Chapter 12

**-25-**

**New York City**

**Sunday, 11:10 p.m.**

Olivia and Elliot had finally decided to call it a night after three uneventful hours with Jordan Ferrars and his newly-retained attorney, Trevor Langan. As Casey had predicted, Langan had promptly put a stop to Jordan's willingness to cooperate with Olivia and Elliot.

"Just tell us about the plan, Jordan," Elliot had coaxed, leaning over the table with his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal his Marine Corps tattoo.

"We already know you were trying to help Billy," Olivia encouraged, trying to uncover the rest of the story. "Your kid brother's in a terrible situation. Some very scary guys are gonna kill him unless he comes up with fifty thousand dollars in a hurry. You're sitting on sports memorabilia worth twice that, easily."

"So you tell Sergio to stage a break-in," Elliot took over the narration, both of them keeping their eyes closely trained on Jordan to see how he reacted to their version of events. So far, he hadn't flinched.

"You tell him how to remove the bat without tripping the alarm," Olivia hypothesized, standing up and pacing the room behind her seated partner.

"Sergio comes over… or maybe he hires someone else to do it, avoids getting his own hands dirty… that's how the Velez boys like to do things," Elliot said, a wicked grin crossing his features as he pieced the puzzle together.

"But what you didn't count on was that whoever broke into your apartment would leave with more than the baseball bat," Olivia finished the story, stopping in front of Jordan and leaning into his face.

"So you lie, you cover it up. Can't stand for your wife to know about your background, that Billy's your brother, that you're faking a break-in to bail him out… that your poor judgment is the reason Mason is dead." Elliot's voice was laced with judgment and condemnation, and Olivia glared at Jordan as she propped herself on the table just inches from him.

"I believe my client's already told you everything about his relationship to Mr. Grant," Langan interjected. "Beyond that, well, I'd love to hear any evidence you believe you may have that he was in any way involved with the breaking and entering of his own home, or the abduction and murder of his own child."

"Has your client told _you_ everything about Sergio Medina?" Olivia barked. "Like the fact that he's Cesar Velez's cousin?"

Langan shrugged, unimpressed. "What does that have to do with my client?"

Olivia gripped the edge of the table tightly. Either it hadn't occurred to Langan that he was advising Jordan not to share any knowledge he possessed that, however indirectly, might lead to the capture of the man who had attempted to murder Alex Cabot; or worse it_ had_ occurred to him and he didn't care. Frowning deeply, Olivia forced herself to stop glaring at Langan and look at Jordan with as much compassion as she could muster. "Jordan, we understand why you didn't tell us the truth at first."

"You were scared," Elliot volunteered, leaning back in his chair. "You didn't want to come clean to your wife about any of this."

"You felt guilty that you put Mason and Chip at risk and this happened," Olivia ventured.

"But there's no reason to lie now," Elliot pointed out. "At this point, any charges the DA might be tempted to bring for conspiracy to commit insurance fraud… well, those charges aren't very likely to stick if you hand us Medina. He's a drug dealer, he's part of a huge cartel. He's the one who actually planned the break-in, possibly planned the abduction and murder." He paused, and studied Jordan Ferrars' impassive face. "C'mon. What do you know?"

Ferrars had looked to Langan, and when the tall defense attorney shook his head and put a protective hand on Ferrars' shoulder, he had simply turned his gaze away from the detectives, indicating that he did not intend to answer the question.

"Dammit," Elliot boomed, rising to his full height and leaning over the table menacingly. "What kind of father are you!? Don't you want to help us catch the sonofabitch that drugged, raped, beat and murdered your son?"

"Of course I do," Jordan choked out, his words coming out in sobs of grief and desperation. "But I… I don't know who it was." He looked from Langan to the detectives, and then back to Langan. "I swear to God, you know as much as I do."

"It's time to go, then," Langan said, a self-satisfied and completely inappropriate smirk on his face.

"Not until we say it's time to go," Olivia retorted, her eyes flashing bronze.

"Then I suppose you'll soon be telling me on what grounds you're going to be arresting my client?" Langan said, raising an arrogant eyebrow as he stood and made a show of lowering his head to gaze down at Olivia, who silently fumed.

"Mr. Ferrars," Elliot said, a cautious tone in his voice. "You're a person of interest in this case, and I highly suggest that you not venture out of your apartment until we let you know otherwise."

"You're not going to make my client a prisoner in his own home, Detective," Langan said, pulling a cream-colored overcoat onto his frame. "Of course, he'll continue to cooperate to the extent that he can, but I believe you've exhausted his knowledge."

"We'll just wait and see what Medina tells us," Olivia muttered, wanting to get the last word, if nothing else. "If he implicates your client, you-"

"Goodnight, Olivia," Langan interrupted, his voice loaded with disdain as he spoke her name. He briefly looked back at her as he exited the interrogation room, dropping his voice and whispering, "We all know you've been on a one-woman crusade to bring down the Velez cartel for five years. I'm not going to let you turn Jordan and Paula Ferrars' lives upside down because of this _extremely_ tangential relation. They're grieving parents, and I'll not see you turn them into vehicles for your own revenge fantasy."

Olivia lunged at him. Had it not been for Elliot's quick reflexes, her fist would have firmly connected with Langan's jaw. Instead, it wound up firmly embedded in the palm of Elliot's hand, which he closed and calmly guided Olivia's fist back down to her side. He shook his head at her, trying in vain to calm her.

"Langan, you sonofabitch… Get the hell outta here," Elliot muttered, slamming the door behind the attorney and his client once they had left. He turned to Olivia, who violently kicked the wall of the interrogation room. "Just let it roll off your shoulder, Liv," Elliot advised.

"I hate that prick," she groaned. "You should've let me hit him."

"Yeah," Elliot stretched, nodding. "You're probably right. He has it comin'."

She turned to him, and seeing his expression, couldn't help but grin a little. "Even for Trevor Langan, this is a new low, him being so cavalier about this case. I mean, he _knew_ Alex…. But I suppose some people just forgot about the case the minute she was gone…"

"Nobody forgot about Alex," Elliot said, his voice softening. "That wouldn't be possible, even for a slimeball like Langan. It's just some people were never really deserving of having known her in the first place." He gestured to the door. "Come on. I'll give you a ride home."

Olivia shook her head. "I'm waiting until Fin comes back with Sergio Medina. I want to know what he's going to say."

Elliot frowned. "They're still in the squad car, they had to drive out to Jersey to arrest the punk. How long has it been since you've slept, Liv?"

"I slept in today," she snapped. "But if you're asking how long it's been since I've had a decent night's sleep, it's been about five years, Elliot, and you know that."

He closed his eyes for a long moment, gathering his thoughts. "Liv, you know that you and Alex… well, you've been apart for longer than you actually knew each other…"

"I know," Olivia shook her head. "I can't explain it. I just know that I'll never rest until I know she's safe, until I know she's home."

He nodded. "I'm just saying, you know, I know how much you're hoping that this case will be what finally makes that happen. And I don't want to see what you're gonna have to go through if this road doesn't end at Alex's door… or if, you know, it does, but things have… things have changed."

Olivia stared at him. "What do you mean?" she asked, tension in her voice.

"Oh, nah, Liv, I didn't…" he stammered, realizing he had just prodded a hornet's nest with a stick. Olivia was clearly still wrestling with the rage that had nearly resulted in a broken jaw for Trevor Langan, and he was going to have to figure out how to avoid her redirecting it at him. "Look, Medina will be here in the morning. We'll be back at seven. Let me take you home, and I promise – tomorrow, you and I will talk to Sergio with plenty of ammo. You know there's nothing we can do tonight."

She nodded, recognizing the logic of his words, and followed him out the door.

**-26-**

**New York City **

**2/23/05**

**(Three years ago)**

Three years earlier, Olivia had followed Elliot out of another door – this one the door of the hotel room where she and Alex had spent the night making love, confessing their desires, hopes, and fears, and consummating the love that they had both felt for so long. Elliot's presence had been an unwelcome intrusion of reality, but he had been sensitive enough to say as little as possible on the ride to the courthouse, aware that there was nothing he could say to ease the women's pain, and that they wanted to concentrate fully on one another, not listen to whatever he tried to say.

Olivia and Alex sat together in the backseat, Alex's head resting lazily on Olivia's shoulder and Olivia cradled Alex's hands in her own and quietly kissed the top of her head. "You're gonna do great," she whispered reassuringly as Alex nuzzled into her neck, oblivious to Elliot's presence, once lifting her fingers to play with the necklace Olivia was still wearing around her neck.

Elliot finally cleared his throat. "We're, ah, we're almost there," he said, his normal speaking tone sounding so much louder and more awkward in the quiet of the car.

"Thanks," Alex murmured, sitting up. She didn't move her hands from Olivia's lap, but had the presence of mind to know that, while she didn't care what Elliot saw, she didn't necessarily want the cameras at the courthouse getting clips of her being so affectionate with Olivia. "How's the kid?" she asked, remembering Antonio, the young boy she'd met in Casey's office the day before, the other witness against Connors.

"Antonio, he's okay," Elliot said. "I think he's gonna be just fine."

Alex nodded, knowing that Connors' conviction depended upon Antonio's testimony much more than hers. He had actually seen Connors in his parents' apartment; all she had seen was Connors' gun aimed at her heart. _And the next thing I saw was Olivia, kneeling over me, looking more terrified than I've ever seen anyone in my life… my body felt so heavy, so tired… and she was screaming, whispering, crying, holding me, using her hand to close my wound, to keep the blood in my body… and I wanted to tell her I could hear her, wanted to tell her I loved her… but I couldn't speak, I couldn't move my mouth, I couldn't find the words in my throat…_

"Hey," Olivia was whispering into Alex's ear as the courthouse came into view. "You're gonna be great, Sweetheart. This is what you came back here to do, and you're gonna be great."

Alex gave Olivia's hand a small squeeze. "This is part of what I came back to do," Alex corrected her. "Last night was the most important."

Olivia quickly pressed her lips to Alex's, giving her a chaste kiss before they separated for the last time, their hands finally falling apart when Elliot parked the car and walked around to the rear door, opening it and helping Alex to navigate her way through the dozens of reporters and cameras as she walked back into the courthouse where she had once prowled the halls with such unshakeable confidence, such grace and power. Now, although her head was still high and her shoulders steady, she wore the air of worry.

Reaching into her purse, Alex extracted a small black case and slipped on a pair of thin black frames. She looked over her shoulder, locking eyes with Olivia, and then seemed to stand a couple of inches taller. Catching Casey and Antonio at the end of the hall, Alex walked toward them with determination. Olivia grinned broadly at Elliot. Alex was back; she was on her way to the courtroom to put the bad guy away, and all was right with the world.

Three hours later, Elliot and Olivia were seated in the back of the courtroom, watching Casey finish her examination of Alex. "Finally, Ms. Cabot, would you describe for the jury what happened after you were shot?"

"I woke up in the hospital. The marshals were there," Alex answered, remembering how terrified she had been. "They told me I was dead, officially, and that the only way they could keep me alive was in witness protection." _And they told me I couldn't let anyone know. That it was better not to let anyone know._

Alex swallowed hard. As Casey took her seat and Connors' lawyer rose, she remembered telling Agent Hammond that he could fuck himself if he thought she was going to let Olivia Benson spend the rest of her life blaming herself for not protecting Alex, when in fact Olivia had saved her life. Hammond had hated the idea of anyone knowing Alex was alive, but she had made it very clear that this was the only deal she would make. If he wanted to take her, it would be on her terms – and her sole term was that Olivia would know the truth, even if no one else did.

Now, Connors' attorney was pacing the well in front of her, trying to endear himself to the jury. "That sounds like quite an ordeal," he said, false concern lacing his words. "I think we're all very moved by your experience."

"Do you have a question?" Alex snapped. She would be damned if she let him stand there and pretend to give a damn about her 'experience'.

"Only one," the attorney said, his tone stiffening as he stared Alex down. "Did you see my client shoot you?"

Alex's eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward in the same predatory manner she had seen Olivia and Elliot use countless times when they interrogated perps. She glanced at Connors, then at the jury. "I saw his _gun_ aimed at _my heart_."

"Please, Ms. Cabot," the attorney said, attempting to control some of the damage she had just done. He had seen the expressions of several jurors change when she spoke. "Just answer the question. On the night that you were shot, did you see Liam Connors anywhere in the vicinity?"

"No. But he's a coward, he likes to run away," Alex smirked. She saw Olivia smiling at her from the back of the courtroom. Drawing confidence from this small gesture, Alex looked directly at the man who had tried to kill her. "Did you leave a family behind in Ireland, Mr. Connors?" she asked, in a mock-conversational tone. _I left a family behind here. I left a mother who adored me. Aunts, uncles, cousins, friends. I left a job that I loved and that I performed brilliantly. I left a remarkably bright future – a future in which my ambition was to become the governor of New York; not to qualify for a $1,000 bonus. I left the city I love, the places I cherish, the life I loved living. I left a woman who loves me more than her next breath; a woman who has promised me forever. Did you ever have to leave anything, you sick son of a bitch?_

"You have absolutely no idea who shot you, do you?" Connors' attorney asked, his voice cutting through Alex's scattered thoughts.

"Oh, I have an idea," Alex spat back, feeling her heart start to race as she sensed the moment when she slipped back into her groove, felt herself taking possession of the courtroom. She had missed this rush. "It's the kind of man who likes to rape a woman to make her talk."

"Let me rephrase the question. Did you see Liam Connors shoot you?"

"No," she admitted. "But I know it was him."

"Your Honor," began the defense attorney.

"It takes a _lot of balls_ to shoot an _unarmed woman_ and a _sleeping child_," Alex shouted, looking directly at Connors. She saw him fidget restlessly, and couldn't resist the urge to bait him a little more. "Too bad your aim wasn't a little better," she taunted.

She faintly heard Connors' attorney objecting, heard a gavel coming down, and sat back in the witness chair with a tiny smirk across her face. She could have sworn Olivia and Elliot were laughing. Connors leapt to his feet and interrupted her moment of triumph. "You think you're safe?" he yelled, his voice straining under his thick brogue. "THEY KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. You should have stayed dead!"

Judge Preston excused her, and Alex took a brief moment to look around the courtroom before she walked out the door. Walking past Olivia and Elliot, she looked at them, winking slyly at Olivia. She hadn't lost a thing, and they all knew it. Olivia's smile froze and then dropped when she saw Agent Jack Hammond leap to his feet and follow Alex out the door. She got up to follow them, but had difficulty moving past the several people also seated in her row. When she finally got out the door, she saw Antonio Montoya sitting with Officer Miguel Sandoval, to whom he had developed an attachment.

Antonio turned his head when he heard Alex's heels clicking on the courtroom floor. "Hi, Alex," he said. Her presence was reassuring to him. She had told him that she was scared, too, and he knew that if she had been able to testify in front of the Ghost and come out unhurt, he could, too.

Alex knelt, smiling warmly. "Antonio, I am so glad you could come to the court," she said.

A guard opened the courtroom door. "Antonio Montoya," he called. Antonio looked at Alex's face, and saw only encouragement.

"I wanna do it," he confirmed.

"OK," Alex said, feeling very proud of him. He was, by far, one of the bravest children she'd ever met.

Olivia thought about staying in the hallway with Alex, but knew that she needed to be in the audience for Antonio. He would be looking to the adults who had helped him for strength during his testimony.

"Go on," Alex said, seemingly reading her mind. She smiled softly.

"I still have to tell you something," Olivia reminded her, smiling as she whispered.

"I know, I know," Alex beamed. "We'll talk soon. Promise."

Olivia impulsively reached for Alex and hugged her tightly. "I love you," she whispered into Alex's ear, knowing that everyone except Elliot would assume it was just a proud gesture between friends.

"I love you," Alex whispered back, giving Olivia's shoulder a small squeeze as the detective walked back into the courtroom to watch Antonio's testimony.

Olivia had decided to stay at the courthouse long enough to hear Liam Connors deemed guilty on all counts. When she finally left the courtroom, neither Alex nor Hammond was anywhere in sight. _It's okay_, she thought, reaching into her coat pocket and feeling the small box resting inside. The box held a small ring, a white gold band with a small braid of moonstone running its length. It was beautiful, simple, and its design was unexpected – much like her love for Alex. She had purchased the ring for herself just weeks before Alex's shooting, and later determined that, if Alex returned and confirmed that she shared Olivia's feelings, she would give the ring to Alex. In the hours since they had last been alone that morning, Olivia had had plenty of time to imagine how she would give it to Alex. She would say something like, "Since I'm wearing your necklace, I think maybe you should wear my ring… just so you remember that you're never alone, just so you have something a little more exciting than a Mr. Softee truck to visualize."

Olivia lifted her hand from the small box, realizing she would have to find a way to get Alex alone for a few minutes at the squad room later on.

On her way back, she went into a liquor store a couple of blocks from the precinct. When she returned with a bottle of wine, Elliot and Casey were just arriving. Fin, Munch, and Cragen were celebrating in the squad room with Miguel Sandoval. Olivia nudged him and brandished the bottle. "Let's get this party started," she said, enthusiastically. She was always happy when they secured a conviction, but this time it was especially sweet.

Olivia noticed that Cragen was looking at her uncomfortably. "Alex knew just how to push Connors' buttons," he observed warily.

Olivia met his gaze. _Shit. He knows. Oh well, I'm not sorry._ "She's a great prosecutor," Olivia said, avoiding his implication.

"And you gave her the ammunition," Cragen muttered.

Olivia's heart leapt into her throat when she heard footsteps coming down the hall. Elliot looked at her and laughed at her excitement. "Is that her? Is that her?" he asked, his voice a teasing sing-song.

Olivia smiled, playfully punching Elliot's arm. She wasn't sure if Alex was ready for the entire squad to know that they were officially an item, but she was having a hard time hiding the fact that she had rarely been happier in her life. She saw Agent Hammond stand in the door frame, but he looked serious.

Olivia's smile was frozen in place, but when Hammond just stood there, she frowned. She didn't greet him, she just went to the doorway and looked down the hall, seeing nothing. "Where's Alex?" she asked.

"Marshals are moving her and Antonio to new identities," he explained, noting the disappointment on everyone's face. He looked directly at Olivia. "She asked me to say goodbye."

Olivia's mouth went slack, her heart slipping out of her throat, through her chest, and falling somewhere under her feet. She felt her knees weaken, and immediately Elliot was behind her, placing his drink down and ready to steady her as she nearly collapsed against him.

Hammond nodded at the squad and left, aware that his news had just ended their celebration.

"No…." Olivia said in a low voice, looking at Elliot. "No." She walked out of the room and entered the bullpen, Elliot close on her heels. He locked the door to ensure privacy.

"Liv," Elliot murmured. "You know she had to go, she wouldn't have left unless they convinced her that she was in immediate danger…"

"Elliot, no," Olivia felt tears start to fall down her cheeks. "This can't be happening again, not so soon…"

His jaw clenched. "If what Connors said was true, if they still want to kill her… Liv, her life is more important than that you get a nice goodbye," he reasoned.

It was the wrong thing to say, and he knew it as soon as the words left his mouth. Olivia glared at him. "I had so much left to say. I had so much left to tell her," she said. "Oh, God. I don't know when I'll get the chance…"

"She looked so happy this morning," he said, his voice reassuring. "And she gave the most incredible testimony I've ever seen. Olivia, you couldn't possibly have said all there was to say in a few hours. But I think I know what I'm talking about when I say that Alex knows exactly what you need her to know."

Unable to respond, Olivia simply allowed herself to cry as Elliot held her, kissing her forehead protectively as he rubbed her trembling shoulders, both of them wondering if they would ever see Alex again.


	13. Chapter 13

**-27-**

**Williamsburg, VA**

**The Jamestown Museum**

**Monday, 10:30 a.m.**

Alex pulled her wire glasses down off her face and wiped them on her shirt – an inelegant gesture, she realized, but one that she frequently performed while working in the stacks at the Jamestown Museum. As was typical for a weekday morning, the museum was quiet and only a few retirees roamed its halls, carefully reading the plaques placed beneath each exhibit. Checking her watch, Alex verified that she had another half hour before she was to meet the fifth graders to point out the museum's most popular exhibits – pages from John Smith's journal, authentic Native American arrowheads, and replicas of Powhatan tepees and colonial forts.

_To think that I've reached the point that I actually get a little nervous about addressing twenty twelve-year-olds_, she mused, studying the sheet she had just picked up from the printer.

"You don't have to put so much into preparing for these, you know," her supervisor, Bill, teased as he walked by and saw her taking a quick look at her list of talking points.

"I just want to be thorough," Alex said, not looking up. "Hopefully it's not too boring for them."

"Boring?" he smiled, looking at her. "Come on, Sarah. Have you looked in a mirror today? We're talking about a bunch of 12-year-old boys. Sitting on the floor listening to you talk about Jamestown is gonna be as much fun as stepping into a Van Halen video."

"Stop it," she giggled, finally smiling. From another man, such a remark would certainly have gotten on her nerves – but she knew Bill was harmless. To begin with, he was about eighty years old, with three grandchildren who visited him at the museum a few times a week. "You're just an old flirt, Bill."

Bill smiled. He had long since stopped trying to learn much about Sarah's background – when she interviewed for the position three years earlier, she told him she had moved to Williamsburg after getting divorced in Alabama. She never mentioned her ex-husband, but did say that the young boy he had seen in photographs was her stepson, and that she had adopted him. She held a degree in history from the University of Alabama and was a conscientious worker – what else did he care? Still, there was something else about the woman, a sense of sadness that never left her, and he assumed that the ex-husband probably had a lot to do with that.

"Need any help setting things up?" he asked her.

"Nope. Just make sure Simon has the film ready, okay? Last time I was expecting _The History of the Algonquin Tribes_ and I got _Victory at Yorktown_."

"I'll check," he replied, watching her dip her head back to her print-out.

When the children began filing into a small teaching auditorium several minutes later, Alex immediately noticed two familiar faces in the back of the room. Angie Hendrix sat in a group of other girls, and her father was seated at the end of the row. He noticed Alex, and waved with a friendly smile.

Putting her notes down on the lectern, she walked to the back of the room and said hello.

"Fifth grade's a toughie," he said with a smile. "But I think I'll finally make it to middle school next year. I feel like I can really do it this time."

She smiled, despite not wanting to. He _was_ a genuinely nice guy. "I didn't realize this would be Angie's class," she said, her tone light.

He nodded, impressed at his own good fortune. "My schedule is kinda non-traditional, so occasionally I volunteer to do the parent chaperone thing," he explained.

It occurred to Alex that she had not yet asked Nathan what he did when he wasn't coaching high school soccer. And while she didn't care, she realized it was probably rude not to ask. "So… what do you do?" she feigned interest.

"I'm a police officer," he said, noticing the way her mouth formed a small 'o' and a slight intake of breath followed. "I've been stuck with a lot of night shifts lately, but it works out on days like this – I can hang out with Ang." When she didn't respond, he rose an eyebrow in mock seriousness. "Uh oh, you don't like cops, Sarah?"

"No, it's not…" she stammered. _Shit_. She quickly looked to her watch. "It's not that at all. I just… I need to…"

"Go ahead," he shrugged, indicating the lecturn. "I'll be here all day. We can trade stories. I'll tell you what it's like chasing bad guys, you can show me what it was like to be a colonial settler… then maybe afterwards I can convince you to bring Miguel over for dinner sometime?"

Nathan was clearly hoping for an answer, but none came. Instead, she turned and walked back to the lectern. "Good morning," she said, in a voice that would have sounded perfectly appropriate in a New York courtroom but was oddly formal in a classroom full of Williamsburg's pre-teens. "Welcome to the Jamestown Museum. My name is Sarah Reyes, and I'm an archivist here." She looked into the crowd, very careful to avoid looking in Nathan Hendrix' direction, lest he think she was interested in him.

For the next several minutes, she took the children through a very detailed account of the founding of Jamestown and what life was like for the Natives and settlers. Relieved when her introduction was done and the filmstrip could finally begin, she ducked out of the room and checked her watch. The film was seventeen minutes long, leaving her a few minutes to be alone with her thoughts before going in to field any questions from the students.

She walked into her office, thankful that it actually had a door. Many staffers were relegated to cubicles, but she at least had a small amount of privacy. Locking the door behind her, she sank into her chair and pulled her hands up to cup her face on either side. _So, Nathan's a cop_, she thought. _Why does that bother me so much?_ She willed herself not to cry, knowing the reason it was affecting her was because it seemed even clearer that there was someone – a flesh and blood someone, as opposed to the theoretical someone she had been prepared to deal with – actively taking steps to replace Olivia Benson in her life. _And that will never, never_ _happen_, she vowed.

She had been thinking of Olivia even more than usual since seeing her on television the week before, not that the beautiful detective was ever far from her mind. Three years since their night together, Alex's body still responded to the memory of Olivia pressed against her, her voice whispering Alex's name. If she tried, she could almost feel Olivia's breath against her skin, taste Olivia in her mouth. Their lovemaking was the most precious memory Alex had, and while the three years without seeing Olivia had been incredibly difficult, never once had she been tempted to bring someone else into that spot in her heart, or her bed, that belonged only to the only woman she had ever loved.

**-28-**

**New York City**

**16th Precinct, Manhattan Special Victims Unit**

** Monday, 1:30 p.m. **

Sergio Medina was almost impossibly skinny, with glassy eyes and hollow cheeks. He wore his wiry black hair slicked tight against his head and pulled into a long, stringy ponytail. His clothes were expensive, but the dirty fingernails he drummed on the table in front of him belied his otherwise unsavory life.

Now, sitting next to his bespectacled attorney, Medina smugly refused to say a word. When Fin arrested him the night before for plotting to kidnap, drug, molest and kill Mason Ferrars, he had actually managed a greasy, gap-toothed smile accented by two gold caps on his front teeth. It was the smile, Fin realized, of a man who knew he was untouchable – someone who had been arrested more than once, and who more than once had escaped the consequences of his actions.

"God, Elliot," Olivia muttered as the partners observed Medina from the bullpen. "Every time he opens his mouth, I go blind."

Elliot shook his head, disgusted. "That's just… gross."

Cragen entered the room and knocked his fist against the two-way glass, and Fin and Munch stood and walked out of the interrogation room. "Any word on the car?" John asked. Medina's Mercedes was currently being searched for forensic evidence.

"The lab found some blood in the backseat. They're looking at whether it belongs to Medina or Ferrars, possibly Grant," Cragen informed them. "Of course, that wasn't half as interesting as what they found in the fabric of the seat."

"What's that?" Elliot asked.

"Try small splinters from the baseball bat used to kill Mason."

The detectives erupted in a commingling of sighs and applause. As terrible as their job could be when they saw crime scenes and heard the worst of what people could do to one another, it was always an incredible rush when they knew they were getting closer to pinning the blame on the bad guy.

"Have we heard from Novak?" Olivia inquired. Billy Grant's arraignment had been that morning.

Cragen nodded. "Just heard from her, she's on her way over from court. We learned this morning that the semen in Mason Ferrars' pants doesn't match Billy – not a surprise, since we already knew it didn't match Jordan. Without that, the grand jury wasn't going to indict him on the rape and murder. They went for reckless endangerment – Billy brought the drugs in the house, and the drugs were clearly used in the abduction. If the blood's a match, we'll re-arrest. "

Olivia nodded. She knew Casey had done the best she could with what little evidence they had to go on. "Is he going to meet bail on the endangerment?"

"Sure. Jordan Ferrars is his brother, Liv."

"Unless we get Medina…"

"Then we're back at Square One," Elliot finished for her. "Novak gonna be able to compel a DNA sample from Sergio?"

He had barely started the question when the prosecutor opened the door to the bullpen. "Done," she said, smiling as she presented a folded paper. "Don called me with the information about the call when I was still in the courthouse – Pretrovsky couldn't sign fast enough."

Olivia smiled. She was impressed, despite herself. "Thanks, Casey," she said, genuinely.

Casey was momentarily stunned. Was Olivia actually giving her credit for a job well done? "Will wonders never cease," she mumbled under her breath, smiling. "So," she said, walking closer to the glass and looking into the interrogation room. "Do we think this guy's the killer?"

"Very possibly," Elliot answered. "Of course, he's not talking, and he has one of the best defense attorneys in New York City – paid for, no doubt, by his Uncle Cesar."

Anticipating the next series of questions, Casey thought she was better off beating Olivia to the punch, although she hated to sacrifice the goodwill Olivia had shown. "You know I'm not going to be able to deal with him if he raped and beat a nine-year-old child to death," she said softly. "It doesn't matter who his uncle is."

Olivia nodded. "I'm not counting on it," she said. It was evident from her tone that she had thought about the matter a great deal. "But we can certainly let him think that you _are_ inclined to entertain the notion of a deal if he gives up Cesar's location."

Elliot nodded in agreement. "If Sergio didn't do it, he's not going to be inclined to wheel and deal anyway," he pointed out.

"We'll just have to follow his every move until he goes to visit his uncle," Olivia said drily. Even if it wasn't going to be easy, she was convinced that one way or the other, Sergio Medina was going to lead her to Velez – and once he was out of the picture, Alex was as good as on a plane headed for New York. Olivia fought the urge to smile from ear to ear as she imagined what their reunion would be like.

Cragen's cell phone vibrated in his pocket, interrupting her thoughts. "Cragen," he barked into the receiver. He heaved a relieved sigh, thanked the caller, and then looked to his detectives. "The blood in the back of Medina's Benz matches Mason Ferrars'."

Fin smiled. It had been his collar, but he knew this was Olivia's turn. Holding the interrogation room door open, he looked to her and mouthed, "Go get him."


	14. Chapter 14

**-28-**

**Reyes Residence**

**Williamsburg, VA**

**Monday, 7:30 p.m.**

"I saw your friend Angie today," Alex said, filling Antonio's glass with lemonade. Tonight, they were trying a new recipe for grilled salmon. It seemed easy enough on paper, and the directions had promised that it was idiot-proof. All the same, Alex felt a little ill-at-ease as she waited for Antonio to take his first nervous bite. She had never been much of a cook, and while she was learning, her experiments in the kitchen had more than once ended with her throwing up her hands in defeat and heading out to McDonald's for Plan B. At the very least, though, she was pretty sure that when she returned to New York, she would be able to prepare a meal for Olivia without setting fire to the kitchen again.

"Where?" he asked.

"At the museum, where else?" she teased, her fork lying still beside the plate.

He feigned nonchalance. "My class doesn't have the field trip until next week."

She nodded. "Looking forward to hanging out in a tepee? Eat your fish."

He shrugged. "You try it first," he dared.

She regarded the salmon cautiously, observing the way the pink fish rested against slightly lumpy mashed potatoes and moderately limp green beans. Briefly, her mind wandered back to the scores of world-class meals she had enjoyed in New York, never for a moment dreaming that one day, she would be forced to clip coupons, shop at a Save-Mart, and fend for herself and a child in the kitchen.

She raised an eyebrow, meeting his challenge him. "You doubt me?" she asked, her tone incredulous as she hoisted a small bite of salmon onto her fork.

He smiled. "Can you blame me? I'm still recovering from last week's chicken finger disaster."

She heaved an exaggerated sigh, and moved the fish into her mouth. Much to her delight – and a little to her surprise – it was fine. Better than fine. "Victory!" she whispered, smiling broadly and giving him a thumbs-up.

He laughed, and then found the courage to try dinner. "This is really good, Alex," he said, appreciatively. "Thanks."

Alex smiled. These small affirmations that she was capable of taking care of Antonio filled her with a sense of pride and importance that she hadn't derived out of anything else, even the career that had once monopolized her time, energy, and thoughts. Although she had never in envisioned a child in her future, she couldn't have asked for a better pseudo-mothering experience. Sometimes she worried that, overnight, he might turn into a regular teenage boy, and she'd have absolutely no idea what to do with him. For now, she would enjoy the sweetness of his company.

"Maybe you could cook something like this for Nate and Angie sometime," he said, a smile on his face.

"What, you think I should cook for him because he's a man?" she said, hearing the bite in her own voice. "I'm not raising you to think like that."

"No, I think you should offer to cook for him because he asked us to dinner and you lied and said you couldn't go," Antonio smirked.

"I told you why I did that."

"Yeah," he said, "I know."

"He was there today, as a parent chaperone," she told him as they ate.

"Yeah? Did he ask you out again?"

"Sort of."

"Did you say no again?"

"Sort of."

"What do you mean, sort of?"

Alex frowned. "The thing with adults… well, sometimes we don't always come out and say what's on our minds. We're not as direct as we maybe could be." She swallowed, realizing she could just as easily have been describing the three years she and Olivia had worked together, choosing not to address the sexual tension and intense love between them.

"Mr. Hendrix is saying what's on his mind," Antonio countered. "He's trying to be nice to you."

Alex sighed, trying to enjoy her meal and having a tough time doing it. "Honey, why is it so important to you that I have dinner with Nathan?"

"It's not," he said, simply. "It's important to me that I hang out with Angie."

"Oh," she said, a little embarrassed. She realized that she had been making the situation all about her and her own hang-ups, ignoring the fact that Antonio really liked Nathan's daughter.

"Can't we hang out with them even if you don't like her dad?" he pressed.

Alex bit her lip. "It's not that I don't like him, Sweetie. He's a cop, did you know that?" When he shook his head, she added, "I'm sure he's a nice guy. Maybe we can all have pizza sometime, like he suggested."

Antonio smiled. "Thanks," he said, happily. "I'll let her know tomorrow."

They ate in silence for another couple of minutes, and then Antonio broached a topic that they had raised and abandoned in the car on the way home from the movies. "So, why don't you want a boyfriend?"

She looked at him and, for a few moments, said nothing. She wasn't sure how to address that question, though she had been anticipating it for at least the past couple of days. On the one hand, one of the most rewarding aspects of their dynamic was the fact that they were so honest with one another. Their relationship was often more a friendship borne of mutual respect than of a natural mother/son dynamic, though that had developed over time.

"Well," she said slowly, "my heart already belongs to someone back home."

He met her eyes, considering her confession. She had already told him she didn't have a boyfriend in New York. "So you were in love with him but he wasn't your boyfriend?"

Alex swallowed, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. In her thirty-six years, she had never had to deal with actually coming out to anyone she cared about. None of the women she had experimented with in college registered as anything other than mere blips on the radar, and none had justified upsetting her parents or close friends. By the time she had realized she was desperately in love with Olivia, it was too late for coming out to their colleagues to have been an issue. Now, she was confronted with the choice whether Antonio would be the first to hear. Bad enough that he had lost his parents, had been uprooted from everything and everyone in his world, and forced to lie about his past to everyone he met. Why would he welcome news that his adoptive mother was gay?

"Her," Alex heard herself say softly, looking down at the table, feeling guilty for unloading this uncomfortable truth upon him.

"Her?" Antonio repeated the word as a question. Slowly, it dawned on him. "Oh."

She looked up and found him looking thoughtfully back at her. "Is… are we okay?" she asked, truly terrified of the answer.

"Yeah, of course," he said, a soft smile crossing his lips. "You know my mom's sister is gay."

"Seriously?" Alex felt queasy as her rapid heartbeat came crashing back down to normal.

"Yeah. It's totally normal for me."

"You're kidding."

"You sound disappointed."

"I guess I was expecting a big reaction."

He laughed, and she found herself joining in. "Want me to freak out and call you names and tell you I'm never talking to you again?"

"No!"

"Good, because it's no big deal. You're my best friend, Alex," Antonio said, smiling. She didn't know what to say, and he continued. "And you're smart, and you're the best fake stepmom in the world, and you're really beautiful. I don't care if you're a lousy driver and your cooking is fifty-fifty. Whoever she is, she's really lucky."

"Actually," she said, daring to tell him the full truth now that the hardest part was out of the way. "You've met her."

"I have? How?" he asked, surprised.

"You met her during the trial," she said, gently, knowing that those had been the hardest days of Antonio's life. "I know you remember the detectives who took care of you. Miguel Sandoval, Elliot Stabler, and Olivia Benson." The names felt like angels on her lips.

Antonio nodded. "Detective Benson? Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

He smiled. "She was really great."

"Yeah. Still is, I'm sure," Alex added, taking care to never refer to Olivia in the past tense. "I saw her on television the other day."

"What? Why?" He looked agitated.

"She's working a case. It's getting some media attention. It might be on _Debbie Lynne_ tonight… wanna watch it with me?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Okay – then help me with these," she instructed, beginning to pile the dishes together.

After dinner, they sat together on the couch in comfortable silence, Alex feeling as though a ton of weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"This is _Real Crime_ with Debbie Lynne Mahoney," came the melodramatic announcement. Debbie's newly-red hair filled the screen. "And we're back in New York tonight, where the NYPD is taking its own sweet time tryin' to piece together the tangled web that is the Mason Ferrars case." A photograph of a beautiful dark-haired boy filled the screen, and Alex caught herself gripping Antonio's hand.

And then, there they were - Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson, standing behind Captain Cragen in full uniform as Cragen addressed the press assembled outside the One Six. Alex's gasp was audible.

"Oh my God," he said, smiling. "It's them!"

Without a thought, Alex brought a hand to her mouth, tears stinging the back of her eyes before they fell onto her cheeks without a sound. She had only seen Olivia wearing her uniform on a handful of occasions, but every time it took her breath away. Only her Liv could make something as utilitarian as a police uniform so sexy, the white cap a perfect contrast to her striking lines and olive skin.

"See the ribbons?" Alex asked quietly. "They've been promoted… looks like Elliot's made Sergeant, Olivia's Detective First Class." She smiled proudly.

Alex replayed Olivia's brief appearance several times before finally listening to Cragen update the press on the case, explaining that a drug dealer named Sergio Medina had been arrested and that his car contained the victim's blood. "Mr. Medina is believed to have ties to the Cesar Velez crime family. While it's true that the little boy, Mason, was injected with heroin, possibly to sedate him, there's no reason to believe that this particular crime had anything to do with drug trafficking."

Alex sobbed aloud, her body flooded with both anxiety and relief.

"Alex?" Antonio was standing, transfixed by the television. "What does that mean? That he has ties to Velez?" It had been Velez, after all, who had turned Antonio's world upside down and ordered his parents killed.

"I don't know, Honey," she said, making sure that she had recorded the images to watch again and again. "But I hope it means that they're getting close to finding Velez."

"What happens then?" he said, sitting down next to her on the sofa. It was something they had spoken about during in his first weeks in the program, but he'd eventually stopped asking when it became evident that he wasn't going back to New York anytime soon.

"Well, if they can extradict him-"

"What's 'extradict?'"

"If they can bring him back to New York to stand trial… and if they can put him away in jail… or if someone kills him," she smiled a little at that thought, "if that happens, then there's no longer a threat against us. We can go home."

He smiled. "Is that gonna happen, Alex?"

"I hope so."

He looked to the television. "I bet Detective Benson wants you to come home."

"I bet she does," Alex said softly, wiping tears from her cheek.

He was considerate for a moment, and then spoke, "They look different in their uniforms, don't they?" He had known them only in plainclothes.

"Yeah, a little," Alex smiled. "I think they look really nice, don't you?"

"Like superheroes," he admitted. "But they kind of are. To me, anyway."

"To me, too," she agreed.

"You really think we're going home soon, Alex?"

"I think…" she paused, not wanting to get carried away, and not wanting to feed him false hope. "If those cops you just saw are working on it? I think it's as good as done," she smiled.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I was in a bit of a rush to get this update posted last night. As some of you have kindly noted, and others have not-so-kindly noted, I inadvertently left a couple of very old notes for upcoming chapters after the chapter. Fortunately, there wasn't much there, but my apologies to all who prefer to be left in suspense. The good news is a lot of that section has been re-staged in my mind since those notes were written, so most of the spoilers are moot! I have now learned the importance of letting someone else give the chapters a final read-through before hastily posting ;-)


	15. Chapter 15

**-29-**

**New York City**

**Olivia Benson's Apartment**

**Tuesday, 2:45 a.m.**

Olivia woke up what felt like mere minutes after she had finally gotten to sleep, memories flooding her mind. The one on a loop was the day's interrogation of Sergio Medina.

Olivia and Elliot had stormed into the interrogation room and told him that the crime lab had just found his car, the backseat soaked with Mason Ferrars' blood. Once Medina had learned that there was actual evidence against him – a reality he'd never had to confront in any of his half-dozen prior drug arrests – he couldn't stop talking.

"It wasn't me, man!" he'd insisted. "I ain't seen that Benz in at least two weeks!"

"You report it missing?" Elliot countered.

Sergio glared at him. "Nah."

"You're driving a $70,000 car, you don't report it missing when you haven't seen it in two weeks?" Olivia groaned, incredulously.

"I ain't say I didn't know where it was," Sergio pointed out, a wicked gleam in his eye. "I said I ain't _seen it_."

Incensed, she had grabbed the table's edges and pushed herself into his face, looking him square in the eye, the most intimidating look she could muster frozen on her features.

"Bitch!" he snarled.

She rolled her eyes and turned to Elliot. "Original. I haven't been called that since this morning."

"Watch it, officers," cautioned Darren Luna, the dark-haired Manhattan defense attorney who was seated next to Medina. "I'm not going to let you intimidate my client."

"You close to your uncle, Sergio?" Elliot smirked from where he casually leaned against the door, ignoring Luna. Typically, he got to be the 'bad cop' in these interrogations, his partner taking the placating role. It was amusing for him to switch personas with her this once.

Sergio grinned proudly. "Ah, so you know why you can't touch me."

"Can't touch you?" Olivia mocked. "We have DNA, blood, splinters from the murder weapon in your backseat. We're gonna do a lot more than touch you."

"She's right, Medina," Elliot said, his features hardening. "Your uncle can help you beat a drug rap. He's not gonna be able to do anything for you this time."

"Your best bet is to tell us what you know about this case, and tell us what you know about where the hell Cesar's been hiding." Olivia said.

"And why the hell would I wanna do that?" Medina glowered.

"And why would you assume he even _knows_ where his uncle is?" Luna added with an exasperated sigh. "His uncle has nothing to do with this case, so can we leave the meritless attacks elsewhere?"

"The DEA is already staking out your house and all of your known hangouts," Olivia said smugly, following Elliot's lead in ignoring the lawyer. "Word's probably already gotten back to your uncle that you were seen leaving with a couple of cops earlier tonight."

"He probably thinks you've turned on him already," Elliot said, not taking his eyes off Sergio.

Olivia looked at Elliot, her voice returning to a steady, conversational pitch. "If my uncle was a drug lord with unlimited resources and he thought I was talking to the cops… wow, I'd be terrified."

"I might be tempted to tell the cops where he is so they could protect my sorry ass, have a reason to simply lock me up for the rest of my life instead of stick a needle in my arm," Elliot mused.

"But I didn't kill that kid," Sergio sputtered, clearly nervous.

"You either killed him or you know who did!" Olivia accused, her bronze eyes flashing in anger.

Sergio shook his head. "This was _not_ the way it was supposed to go down, man."

"How _was_ it supposed to go down?" she snapped, lifting herself onto the table and looking down at him. "Billy Grant owes you money. His brother tells you to break in and steal his bat to pay it off. Why not do it yourself?"

"No, I wasn't even there," Sergio said, his tough guy personae crumbling as he considered the evidence the police claimed to have gathered against him. The lawyer glared at him, clearly irritated that his client didn't have the good sense to shut up.

Elliot smiled slightly. He could always sense when someone was nearing the breaking point; and in this moment he wanted nothing more than to watch Sergio Medina tumble over the edge and crack. "So, who was?"

Sergio's lawyer held up a hand, silencing his client. "We're not saying another word," he said, his admonition clearly intended for Sergio as much as it was for the interrogators.

Sergio shifted uncomfortably. Olivia seized the opportunity. "Are you protecting your uncle, Sergio?" She lifted herself off the table and crossed to the other side, standing in front of him and looking down.

"What? No, he wasn't there. He doesn't even live anywhere near here," he blurted quickly.

"Enough," the lawyer said, losing patience with Sergio.

"Wanna tell us where he _does_ live?" Elliot smirked.

"Of course he's not doing that," spat Luna.

"Who'd you send?" Elliot demanded. "Who killed that boy?"

Sergio shifted again. He looked at Luna, who slowly moved his head from one side to the other, indicating that silence was the only appropriate response.

"You're being told not to cooperate," Olivia observed, speaking directly to Medina. "But your lawyer's probably on Uncle Cesar's payroll. He's protecting _him_, not you."

"That's enough," Luna said angrily, standing and straightening his jacket. "I'm calling an end to this interview."

"Not before I make sure _your client_ understands that the only way he's getting out of this evening without a murder arrest is by telling us everything he knows," Olivia chirped.

Luna continued to glare at her. "Come on," he barked at Medina, who sat wide-eyed at the table, obviously considering the officers' statements. He looked back and forth from Luna to them, and Olivia finally understood.

Nodding slowly at Elliot, she left the interrogation room and entered the bullpen. "He can't talk in front of his lawyer," she stated simply. "He knows Luna's just going to run back to Velez and tell him everything he says. He starts talking to us in front of that guy, he's as good as dead."

Cragen nodded. He looked to Novak. "Casey, your thoughts?"

"We can't talk to him _without_ Luna," she pointed out. "We have more than enough to hold him. I'll arrange for him to share a cell with Pete Montrose," she said, dropping the name of a prison informant. "He seems like a cocky bastard. Maybe he'll run his mouth and we can find something out that way. Meantime, have Fin and Munch follow Medina's friends and family."

"Think they'll lead us to Cesar?" Elliot asked, looking at Olivia.

"It's worth checking out," Casey said, her lines drawn thin.

Olivia nodded. "I think so," she affirmed. She looked at Casey. "Have you talked to the U.S. Attorney?"

Casey nodded. "Of course. They want to charge Sergio Medina with running drugs on behalf of Cesar Velez. I'm interested in retaining control of his case. Drug trafficking gets him life. The kidnapping, rape and murder of a child? That's a more permanent solution."

"Time to call it a day, Cap?" Elliot asked. "Liv's right. He's gotta be scared to death to talk in front of that lawyer."

"Yeah… but while Fin and Munch are following Medina's family, I want you trailing that lawyer. Find out where the hell the payments are coming from," Cragen suggested. He frowned. "I want to close the Ferrars case, but as we all know, we have the opportunity to do a hell of a lot more than that here."

Olivia felt her lips turn upward slightly, and then forced her features into a more serious expression.

Back in the squad room, Elliot walked a couple of steps behind her. "You handled it well," he congratulated her. "I know it was probably killing you not to beat the truth out of him."

Olivia turned and smirked. "You know, I don't know whether to feel excited or angry. I feel like the rest of my life is on the tip of my tongue."

Elliot nodded. "You know, I've been concerned about you. Concerned that you were pinning too much on this case. The connection seemed a little too thin for us to hope that…" he paused, and then took a seat behind his desk. "But I have to say, I'm hoping too."

Olivia sank into her chair and looked at her partner. "The worst part was having absolutely no idea if I would ever see her again, El," she confided, her voice quiet. "But this is a relative, someone in his organization, someone he obviously values enough to protect." She bit her lip, a familiar nervous gesture. "Eventually, someone's going to slip. I don't know if it's going to happen this week, next week… next year. But the DEA's going to get involved, they're going to be surveilling Medina's family and the Luna firm."

"I've never heard you sound so happy to have someone else stepping on our toes," Elliot observed dryly.

"Their resources dwarf ours, and you know it," Olivia said, quickly.

"I know."

"We have more than enough to put Medina on trial for the Ferrars killing right now," she noted.

"Not quite," Casey said, walking over to them. "We still need to see if the semen matches to Medina," she stated.

"Welcome to the conversation, Casey," Olivia deadpanned, a small smirk on her face giving away that she wasn't truly angry.

"Sorry," Casey said quickly, though it was obvious she wasn't. "Listen, I know you're both looking at this as a means to find Velez," she said. "And I understand that. I know Alex wants to come home, and I know you want to _bring_ her home. I want to bring her home, too."

Olivia felt her knuckles tighten around her desk. How could Casey understand? She had known Alex for a grand total of two days, and, like everyone except for Elliot, was completely ignorant of the turn her relationship with Olivia had taken on her only night in town. Still, she managed to mumble a small, "Yeah," to the prosecutor.

"But we can't lose sight of what this case is really about in trying to make it about what we _want_ it to be about," Casey said, taking a seat on the edge of Olivia's desk.

As soon as Casey's body made contact with her desk, Olivia had stood up immediately, her hand covering her mouth, as though she'd been shocked. There was something so discomfiting about that maneuver – something so _wrong_ with Alex's replacement positioning herself on her desk in that familiar, easy manner.

"Olivia?" Casey asked, an eyebrow raised, clearly confused about what had caused such a violent reaction in the detective.

"I'm sorry, Casey," Olivia said, genuinely, trying to relax. "I just…" She was at a loss for words. What could she say?

"You just haven't slept for about a week," Elliot said, nobly trying to bail her out. "Liv, why don't you head home? I'll stay here and figure out what we're doing the next couple of days. You get some rest and I'll fill you in when there's a plan."

For the first time since the case had begun, Olivia didn't fight him on it this time. "You're right," she said, lifting her leather jacket from her chair and bidding them both goodbye as she left the station and headed for home.

Olivia stretched in her bed, inhaling the faint scent of the perfume she had misted onto her pillows earlier that night. She smiled as she thought of another, earlier memory – of the first time Alexandra Cabot had taken a seat on her desk, her legs crossed in a sexy, slightly dangerous fashion, revealing just enough thigh that Olivia interpreted the gesture as a dare not to look a little too long.

Olivia wasn't sure exactly when she first realized she was attracted to the blonde ADA. From the beginning, probably, she realized. She hadn't even liked Alex at first, dismissing her as intelligent but insufferable, egotistical, and bull-headed. Still, the attraction was undeniable. Alex was indisputably gorgeous – tall, slender, soft hair the color of corn silk falling past her shoulders. Her determined gait was almost regal, her mannerisms and words always so deliberate and well-executed.

As time progressed and they spent more time working together, forced to come into contact on a near-daily basis, Olivia found that she genuinely _liked_ Alex, that there was so much more to the woman she'd once dismissed as an "entitled Park Avenue Princess" during a heated shouting match. Sure, she could be a bit arrogant – but she could also be compassionate, creative, and willing to see the world in shades of gray. Eventually, Olivia had realized that the last thing Alex had ever been was entitled. Though the circumstances of her birth would have allowed her to coast through a life of leisure and ease, she had chosen to work in the gritty world of sex crimes. So what if her reasons for becoming a part of SVU had been purely political? The reasons she had stayed were admirable, and Alex worked harder than anyone else Olivia had ever met. She expected nothing to be handed to her, even if plenty was.

Olivia _was_ sure, however, about the moment she first realized she was falling in love with her. She had been standing in a hallway at Bellevue with Alex when Sam Cavanaugh's mother had lunged at the shaken and sleepless blonde, blaming her for her son's suicide attempt. Olivia had acted without thinking, pulling Alex's fragile body into her arms, holding her tight and whispering assurances as she watched Alex blame herself for the horrible way everything was turning out.

Alex had turned to look at her, and Olivia had seen something in her eyes, but hadn't been sure at that moment what it was. Alex was so tired, it could have been anything. Olivia briefly allowed herself to think it was love, but knew it could just as easily have been confusion, bewilderment, lack of direction. She had moved her hand to the small of Alex's back, cherishing even that small contact as she led Alex back to the car and drove her home. Before going inside, Alex had taken a long look at the detective, and Olivia had hoped for a moment that Alex would kiss her. Of course, she had had to wait more than two years before that kiss finally happened.

Days later, Olivia observed Alex walking down a hallway in court and resigned herself to the harsh truth – there was little to no chance that Alex was interested in women, and even if she was, she would never fall for someone like Olivia. Olivia knew she had a certain appeal – she had never run into a problem attracting women _or_ men. Still, she imagined that Alex dated only men, and men _like Trevor Langan_ to boot – men from backgrounds like her own. Money, private schools, designer clothes, extended and powerful families. Olivia had been born to a single mother in the Bronx, had been a child of rape. She'd never even _been_ to Martha's Vineyard, and she had it on good authority that the Cabots owned a luxuriously-appointed summer home just down the road from Jackie Kennedy Onassis' place. They were from different worlds, and Olivia had forced herself to accept that.

She settled for the fantasy. She knew that it was only in her mind that she would be allowed to touch that porcelain skin, kiss those full lips. Only in Olivia's dreams could her arms envelop Alex, her hands roam over Alex's body, her fingers push the fabric of Alex's panties aside and push into Alex's warm, wet center.

Now, alone in her bed, thoughts of Alex filling her memories and arousing her senses, Olivia allowed herself to be weak. A single tear traced a hot, wet trail down her cheek, and then it was followed by another, and another. Soon, without even realizing it had begun, Olivia was sobbing into her pillow, her body aching with longing. She found herself wondering whether Alex had spent the last three years in the same state of paralysis. While there had been plenty of opportunity for Olivia to break her promise to remain faithful, there had never been any real temptation. Now Olivia knew what it was like to actually make love to Alex, to actually feel her skin, kiss her lips, press her fingers into Alex's tight cunt. Waiting three years didn't feel like a sacrifice when she thought about how important it would be to look into Alex's blue eyes and tell her, honestly, that there had been no one else – that there never _could_ be anyone else.

Olivia felt herself becoming aroused just thinking about the night she had spent in the hotel room with Alex the night before the Connors trial. She slipped out of her pajamas and sucked a thumb into her mouth, then circled her breast in slow, tender strokes, her mind conjuring the image of Alex's eyes meeting hers as she looked up while lovingly sucking Olivia's nipples into her mouth. Closing her eyes, Olivia tried to remember every detail of Alex's body moving atop hers – felt Alex's hips thrusting down against hers, felt Alex's soft hair tickling her chest.

Olivia gasped aloud as she moved her hand down over her tight abdominals and tenderly stroked her outer lips, her fingers playing in the light layer of trimmed dark hair between her legs. Tears still streaming and staining her cheeks, Olivia arched her body and bent her knees, pushing two fingers into her throbbing center, trying to believe that they were Alex's fingers, that she wasn't alone. Her sobs choked through a couple of rough thrusts, and Olivia rolled onto her stomach, having given up again, alone with the hard truth that nothing would satisfy her until she had Alex – not Alex's memory, not Alex's ghost, but Alex – back in her arms.

A/N: Thanks for sticking with me so far! I had intended to get the next chapter up tonight, but it doesn't look like that's going to happen, so I'm going to try to get it done tomorrow. After that it might be a while as the folks are coming in for a Christmas visit. I'm planning to give Alex and Olivia a _very special_ Christmas gift soon, too, though it's still February in their world.


	16. Chapter 16

**-30-**

**Hendrix Residence**

**Williamsburg, VA**

**Tuesday, 6:30 p.m.**

Alex pulled up in front of the ranch-style house and sighed. When Antonio had informed her that Angie and Nathan had invited them to dinner, she had found herself unable to think of a solid reason for refusal.

The Mason Ferrars case had been on her mind since the previous night's television broadcast, and in addition to replaying the video footage of Olivia in her uniform at least three dozen times, she had spent much of her day at work searching the internet for any and all available information on the case. The amount of press focused on this one was staggering, and Alex had even spotted Olivia entering and leaving the precinct in a few photos. She was grateful for the chance to see her lover, even if only in grainy photographs. Novak's face had also been splashed across several web pages, as had Cragen's.

This was exactly the kind of case, Alex realized, that she had loved prosecuting. The kind of case that allowed her to do well by doing good – to earn a great deal of positive publicity by bringing a truly twisted, evil person to justice. The kind of case that she could feel good about now and cash in for a few thousand votes later.

Parked here in Nathan Hendrix's driveway in Williamsburg, Virginia, all of that seemed even longer and further away than it really was. Before going to bed the previous night, Antonio had asked Alex whether she was ever tempted to simply pick up the phone and call Olivia. She had admitted that the number was still burned in her memory, but she had not confessed that she had caught her fingers tracing the familiar pattern more times than she could count, always stopping at the fifth or sixth digit.

_How will they ever know_ _if I call Liv at work_? she imagined the cartoon devil on her left shoulder asking. She imagined the surprise, wonder and excitement that might fill Olivia's voice when she realized it was Alex on the other end of the line, the things they might say and ask in their hushed thirty-second conversation. _I love you so much, _Alex longed to say. _I go to bed thinking of you every night and I wake up thinking of you every morning. The only thing keeping me alive is the idea that I might see you again – love you again – any day now. _Always, though, her common sense won out, reminding her that she would not just be gambling with her own safety by calling, but with Olivia's and Antonio's as well. Those were risks she was unwilling to take.

"You okay in there?" Antonio teased. He was already out of the car and opening Alex's door for her.

A little embarrassed at having spaced out, Alex nodded and got out of the car. "We can't stay late," she said for the third time since they'd left the house. "It's a school night."

"It's just dinner, there's no afterparty," he quipped, smiling as they walked to the door. As his hand reached to ring the bell, Alex felt a surge of anxiety.

Nathan answered the door, a wide smile fixed across his handsome face. Alex took note of the fact that in a previous lifetime, before receiving confirmation that Olivia returned her affections, she might even have allowed herself to flirt with him, maybe even let him take her out. But that was before, and now she must remain firm in her resolve. This could never turn into anything; not while there was still a chance she and Olivia would be reunited.

Still, she saw no reason not to be gracious, and she found it a little easier than she had expected to smile throughout dinner and laugh at Nathan's corny jokes, which came flying at a fairly rapid pace. Angie was a polite, intelligent girl, and Alex found herself pleased that this was the sort of girl Antonio found crushworthy.

After dinner, the four of them enjoyed a highly competitive game of video game bowling, and Alex found herself laughing harder than she had in almost three years. She had decided to enjoy the new friendship that she found with Nathan – three years without another adult to talk to had begun to take its toll – though it was increasingly obvious that he was hoping for more than the occasional get-together with the kids and video game. As Angie and Antonio lost themselves in another round of bowling, Nathan offered Alex a beer, and she gratefully accepted.

"Angie's really fond of Miguel," Nathan said, popping the top off a glass bottle and passing it to Alex.

"Well, he likes her, too," she agreed, taking a sip. It was domestic and she probably would have turned her nose up at it in New York, but tonight it was the perfect refresher.

"Maybe we can make this sort of a regular thing," he added, a small smile on his face, his eyes crinkling in a friendly manner.

Alex said nothing, the slight smile turning down slightly. "Nathan," she began, realizing it was time to let him down easily, "it's not that I don't think you're a really nice man – I do – but I'm not really in the market right now." She looked to his face to gauge his reaction to her statement, and found that he looked disappointed, but not unfriendly.

"How long has it been?" he asked, his disappointment evident.

She looked at him in silence, unsure what he meant.

"How long've you been divorced?" he specified. "I ask because it was probably two, three years after Amanda and I split up before I was ready to even think about meeting someone."

Alex sighed. "About that long," she said, recalling the details of the back story the FBI had given her when it had assigned her and Antonio their new identities in Williamsburg.

"Is Miguel's father still in your lives?" Nathan asked. Alex was tempted to tell him it was none of his business, and then wondered why she felt the urge to guard the privacy of a life that wasn't even hers to begin with. Sarah Reyes might have married an abusive drunk; but why should Alexandra Cabot feel any shame because of it? _She_ had won the love of a brave, beautiful woman.

"No," Alex said, assertively. "It's just the two of us now."

Nathan seemed to pick up on the fact that his companion was not in the mood to share any further information. "Well," he said evenly, "are you in the market for friendship?"

"Of course," she said, with an encouraging smile.

"Then I'll take that," he responded. "And maybe someday…"

She started to respond, but then decided it wasn't worth the effort. She finished the beer quietly, allowing her mind to wander to another place where she might have spent this chilly evening instead. She wondered what Olivia was doing. Was she, at this very moment, working on tying up the threads connecting Mason Ferrars' death to Cesar Velez's drug operation? Was the NYPD coordinating efforts with the DEA to bring resolution more swiftly?

Alex did not allow any doubt to enter her mind. She _knew_, as surely as she could know anything, that it was a matter of weeks – perhaps even days – before her phone rang or a federal marshall showed up at her front door. She imagined the look on Olivia's face when she saw Alex – this time she'd be expecting it, would have had an active role in making it possible. How sweet it would be to feel Olivia's soft lips pressed against hers again, to make love to that tanned, muscular body and assure herself that Olivia's love for her was as strong as she had left it.

Alex also thought about the practical aspects of leaving the Program – if the case was resolved and Velez found too quickly, she might have to pull Antonio out of school in the middle of the semester. Should she stay until the timing was convenient? What would she tell Bill at the Museum? She had been ripped from Emily Watson's life so fast that there had never been an opportunity for her to worry about explaining things to her coworkers and friends.

Alex chuckled softly, glad that she had become so confident about her imminent return to New York that she had allowed herself to think about the details.

"Remembering a punchline?" Nathan asked, teasing her.

"No, sorry," she said, returning her empty bottle to his kitchen. "My mind was just wandering, I guess."

He nodded as if he understood; but they both knew he didn't. "Sarah, if you ever decide you're ready… well, I'd really like to take you out sometime."

Man. He just didn't quit, did he? Alex sighed. "Nathan, thank you. I'm flattered," she fibbed. "But I've come out of a very painful divorce which was preceded by a lousy marriage to a real son of a bitch," she was glad to work in Olivia's favorite swear. Then, she spoke the first honest words she had in a while: "I'm just simply not interested in starting a relationship with a man right now." She looked at their children, gleefully playing with the video game in the living room. "Is this going to turn into something awkward? Because I'd really like it if Miguel and Angie can keep spending time together. She's a sweet girl, you're a nice guy, and I thought we already agreed that friendship was a good thing."

Nathan's brow furrowed. "We did," he admitted. "But I guess I didn't get the message. Until now." He held his palm open in a peaceful gesture. "Friendship it is. And I promise to back off."

"Thanks," she said, smiling gratefully. With that out of the way, they were able to relax and enjoy the children's laughter for another hour, when Alex finally announced that it was time to head home for the night. Much to Antonio's surprise and delight, she invited Nathan and Angie over to their house for dinner that weekend, stating that it was her turn to return his hospitality.

Back at the house, after saying their goodnights, Antonio and Alex retreated to their respective bedrooms. Alex opened one of her dresser drawers and removed the folded print-out of a _Ledger_ article that had run that morning. The headline read: Manhattan SVU Uncovers Far-Reaching Plot Behind Little Boy's Murder.

Alex smiled, proud of her detectives – and that was exactly how she still thought of them – for working so hard on this one. If she closed her eyes and silenced the world around her, she could almost transport herself to New York, put herself in charge of this case. She imagined sitting in the comfortable chair behind her desk, Olivia leaning over the cherry wood, forgetting all rules of personal space as she insisted that Alex get to work on a warrant based on some gut feeling. She imagined herself insisting that she couldn't do it. Olivia would circle the desk, Alex would stand up as if to physically indicate that she had no intention of backing down. But instead of just yelling at each other and growing more frustrated at their mutual inhibition, this time Alex acted on her urge to throw her arms around the detective and pull her into a deep kiss.

_What would have happened if we'd just been brave enough to do something about our attraction before I was shot and we realized it was so much deeper?_ she wondered, tears filling her eyes. _If Olivia and I had been a couple, if we had already built a life together, then maybe I would never have pushed so hard on that case. Maybe I would have been with her that night, not out in the city, stubbornly refusing her offer to keep me safe. I would be with her right now – falling asleep in her arms, listening to her breathe, feeling her beautiful fingers move inside me, her lips tracing every line of my body…_

Alex looked in the mirror and wondered whether Olivia would still be as attracted to her. She was a naturally beautiful woman, and she knew it – you really couldn't look that good and not know, on some level, that you were remarkable. Still, since she had entered the Program and been forced to abandon her family money, her expensive indulgences and upkeep had come to something of a halt. Her wardrobe was now more inclined toward Target than Prada. Gone were the weekly $100 manicures and occasional days at the city's more impressive spas. Gone were the salon haircuts; they had made way for the stylish offerings of SuperCuts. She was still attractive, yes, but it would take a while before she truly felt like herself again. Her hair was a mousy brown, its natural cornsilk color hidden beneath a bottle job. How would Olivia react to the changes?

Finally, she began to wonder how Olivia would react to the biggest change in her life: Antonio. Olivia still didn't know – how could she? – that Alex had insisted on adopted him rather than let him be placed in foster care. She knew that Olivia would understand the decision, that she would have, in all likelihood, made the same call. She wondered if it would surprise Olivia – surprise any of them – that Alexandra Cabot had taken to motherhood, albeit her own modified version, so well.

Looking at the Ledger article, Alex's thumb traced the curve of Olivia's black-and-white jawline. The photo had been taken at the press conference, and Olivia's head was turned away from the camera. Her profile was so gorgeous underneath that white cap. "Hey, Baby," Alex whispered. "You hurry up and bring me back, okay?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, it looks like it wasn't a "Christmas" present... maybe New Year's. Thanks for sticking with the story, and I promise - it's almost time for a happy ending. (Sorry to spoil the surprise, but... I'm a sucker for a happy ending!)


	17. Chapter 17

**-30-**

**New York City**

**Law Offices of Luna, Matthau, and Steinert**

**Tuesday, 7:00 p.m.**

Gertrude Drexler hurriedly turned off the game of Spider Solitaire she'd been playing all evening, enjoying the few hours she had alone in the office with Mr. Luna across town defending the nephew of one of the firm's best clients, Cesar Velez. Working late wasn't unusual for Gertrude, particularly when one of the partners was across town tending to a blue chip client.

Some of the associates had whispered something about CesarVelez being on the FBI's top ten list, and Gertrude had confirmed the rumor when she had checked online. Although she thought it was kind of strange that Velez always paid through other clients, Gertrude only cared about one thing: Velez was practically the firm's only client who paid on in full, on time, every month. This kept the partners in a very good mood, and in turn kept the support staff rolling in perks and bonuses. For all she cared, Cesar Velez could confess to every crime committed in New York for the last five years, and he'd still be okay in her book.

So, it was especially surprising to her that when Luna came barreling into the office that evening after the interrogation with a scowl on his face, Gertrude was taken aback. Usually, any hours billable to the Velez account brought smiles to the entire office.

"That dumb prick," Luna mumbled to the man walking beside him, a young associate named Todd Rivers. "I swear, I was afraid to leave him. He's gonna roll on the old guy first chance he gets. What do you mean, how do I know? It's what I do. I read people." He was silent for a moment, and looked to Gertrude. "Ms. Drexler," he addressed her, "I'll need to speak with our number one client."

She nodded, knowing exactly which client he meant, but her words were not affirmative. "He always calls us," she reminded him.

"Well, we need to call him this time," he pointed out, his voice condescending as though he was addressing an ignorant child. "I refuse to believe you have no way of contacting our firm's most important client."

"We have no contact information, at his insistence," she argued.

"Dammit," Luna slammed his fist into a table. "We have contacts. Go up the tree, for God's sake. Get me in touch with him as soon as possible. You're paid to just make these things happen when you're asked to, not to tell me how fucking difficult it's going to be."

"Fine," she answered, her lips drawn. _He can be such a bastard_, she observed, bring up the Velez computer file and dialing the first of a long list of numbers that did not belong to Cesar, but that she hoped would soon lead her to someone who was willing to put her in touch with him. She was known for being one of the firm's miracle workers, and she wasn't about to stop living up to that reputation.

**-31-**

**New York City**

**Chauncy's Restaurant**

**Tuesday, 8:15 p.m.**

"….so then Maureen tells Dickie, you know, that's why we're never going to Orlando for summer vacation." Elliot chuckled at his own wit, and Olivia managed a soft laugh despite missing the majority of what had preceded the punch line.

Picking up on the fact that his partner was not entirely with him, Elliot was quiet for a minute and then surveyed the menu. The hamburger joint had become something of a hangout for them since this case had started, and they had even managed to talk to Billy Grant's ex-girlfriend a couple more times since first meeting her. She was a nice girl who, despite knowing very little about Billy's present life, expressed great concern for his welfare.

After they had ordered dinner, Olivia looked at Elliot. "I'm sorry I'm kind of… elsewhere," she acknowledged. "It's a little overwhelming. I've been waiting for three years for something – anything – to happen on the Velez case. Nothing. Then, all of a sudden, a child with no immediately apparent connection to Velez is found dead and we're working with the DEA and the U.S. Attorneys again." She shook her head.

"I know," Elliot said, trying to gauge where Olivia was coming from. "And we all hate that this is the price of going after Velez. But you know as well as I do we're gonna get justice for that little boy just as much as for Alex."

Olivia nodded. "Do you believe that Sergio hadn't seen his car for two weeks?"

Elliot shrugged. "It'll be a moot point whether we believe him tomorrow. Once they get Medina's blood sample and run it through, we'll know whether it's in his backseat."

"And if it is, he'll say it's his car, of course he has blood and DNA in there. He'll make up a story about skinning his knee…"

"Not if Melinda can tell us it's just as old as the Ferrars blood. What we really need to do is find that baseball bat," Elliot said, frowning. "Then the case is as good as closed."

"Casey's working on a subpoena for the Luna, Matthau billing records," Olivia reminded him. "It's not going to be easy."

"No, there are right to privacy and attorney-client privilege problems all over that one," he agreed. "We're better off waiting for the DEA to catch Luna talking to Velez directly."

"How are they going to get a wiretap?" Olivia scoffed, disappointed. "It's still not illegal to represent someone."

"Someone hasn't been talking to John Munch lately," Elliot said, a proud smirk on his face. He did have a streak that very much enjoyed being the one to educate Olivia on procedure. "The Patriot Act redefined terrorists to such a degree that, if you're interpreting the Act liberally, everyone who's ever carried a dime bag across state lines or carried an ACLU membership card probably qualifies."

The food arrived, and Olivia ignored it while she tried to deduce Elliot's implication. "So, if the government considers Cesar Velez a terrorist…"

"…and they consider Medina a part of his organization, an active participant – which he is, we don't even have to reach on that one," he pointed out, stuffing a French fry into his mouth. "Then FISA – another gift to law enforcement from the Bush administration – allows the Feds to monitor the calls of anyone they feel may be in contact with the organization."

"When is the FBI setting up the wiretaps on Luna, Matthau?"

"According to Casey, could be as early as today. These guys are good." Elliot was still smiling. "I find it a little amusing that, without realizing it, Bush's crazy 1984-type laws are going to speed the reunion of my favorite lesbian couple."

Groaning through her smile, Olivia punched Elliot in the forearm. For the first time since they had sat down, she actually felt like eating her sandwich.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Note: Yes, this is a few days later than promised. I throw myself on the mercy of the court – work interfered with a lot of unexpected curves. Hopefully, this installment is worth a couple days' wait.**_

**-32-**

**New York City**

**Holding Cells, Rikers Prison**

**Wednesday, 11 a.m.**

Peter Montrose had one hell of a headache. First, breakfast had been stale toast with tasteless gravy and chewy bacon bits – the inmates called it 'Shit on a Shingle' – and then, on top of that lousy morning, he'd been informed that he was being moved to the holding cells to talk to someone awaiting arraignment for murder. _Great_. He hated bunking with the newbies, but he absolutely loved what it represented. And the headache he was getting from listening to this guy run his yap was almost definitely going to be more than worth it.

When Montrose had been convicted of possessing child pornography and showing it to a little boy who lived in his apartment building, he had managed to receive a sentence of minimal time in exchange for helping the DA's office bust up the ring of amateur pornographers behind one of New York's biggest kiddie porn rings. Now, he managed to earn favors such as avoiding spending excessive time in the general population – not the best place to be for guys who were known to favor small children – by paying close attention to everything he overheard in prison and occasionally passing on interesting tidbits to the DA's office. If word got out that Montrose was a rat, he was a marked man, and he knew it. Still, it sure kept life on the inside a little more interesting. Just two months ago, he'd been able to tell the police where to find the remains of a little girl who had been missing for years. The murderer's brother, serving time for his fifth DUI, had confided that he was sure he knew where the creep would have stashed the kid. That little nugget had shaved six months off Montrose's time, he was sure of it.

For the life of him, though, Peter Montrose could not figure out just how in the hell he was supposed to strike up a conversation with this Medina kid. He looked just like any other street thug to Montrose, who figured him for a stupid drug dealer. But much to Montrose's surprise, the kid had started running his mouth the minute he walked into the cell.

"What're you doin' in here?" Medina had asked him almost right away, this breach of prison's unspoken rules revealing that he had never done any time before.

"Attempted robbery," Montrose lied. "Got myself and some buddies busted in the middle of robbing a bank a last weekend, and here I am. Yourself?"

"They think I killed this kid," Medina said, looking a little scared as he sat on the bottom bunk. He obviously didn't know that it was a bad idea to let anyone else in prison know you were on the hook for hurting kids. Montrose decided not to do him the favor of filling him in.

"Murder?" Montrose whistled. "Intense. When's your arraignment?"

Medina shook his head. "I dunno, man. They just took some blood from me."

"Why'd you let 'em?"

"Court said I had to. Forensic evidence in my car or some shit like that."

Montrose sat and waited. This was going to be easy! He didn't even have to prompt the kid; he couldn't wait to spill the beans.

"I didn't do it, if you're wonderin'," Medina said, his tone defensive.

Montrose shrugged, a familiar move exhibited by fellow inmates when they wanted to hear the rest of the story but didn't want to seem too eager. Playing it cool was part of surviving on the inside. In his case, though, he hadn't met many inmates who weren't willing to go to the grave swearing they were innocent.

"I let some Wop bastard borrow my damn car," Medina was getting angry.

"Did you tell 'em?" Montrose asked, trying to sound casual.

"No."

"Why not?"

"My fuckin' lawyer, man," Medina grumbled. "He doesn't want me to say a word."

"Not even to prove your innocence?"

"Not when the guy who did it happens to be more important than me." Medina brought his hands to his face. "Let's just say when the shit hits the fan, you learn the real chain of command, Bro."

"So your lawyer's kind of a company man?" Montrose asked, not sure how far to press. "He's not trying to keep you out of jail?"

"Nah, he's workin' to keep the big guy out of this," Medina confided. "Molinari's one of his best soldiers. They'd gladly send me here with a murder rap to keep that skeeze in operations." He moved his shifty eyes back and forth from Montrose to his own shoes. "Even if this is all that dumb fuck's fault. He broke the damn thing he was supposed to take."

"Sounds like you're playing with the big boys," Montrose observed. "Why are you so free with the information?"

"Fuckin' A. Yes, I am," Sergio said, his voice tinged with obvious pride. "I gotta tell someone – that rat lawyer won't let me say a thing. What'm I supposed to do with that, huh? Ah, forget it, anyway. No way my uncle's gonna let me rot in here, even if he thought I did do it. And I didn't," he clarified, for some reason wanting to know that Montrose believed him, maybe testing his credibility.

Montrose, who didn't care one way or the other whether Medina had done anything, simply nodded. "Okay. So you didn't do it, and you're not allowed to clear your name. What are you gonna do about that?"

Medina shook his head. "I'm out of ideas, man."

Montrose resisted the urge to point out that Medina looked like the kind of guy who had never had an idea in his life. "What if I knew someone you could talk to about, you know, deals and protection and shit?"

Medina looked interested, so Montrose kept talking, proud that Medina had been such an easy mark. He'd actually made going to the DA sound like _Medina_'s idea.

**-33-**

**New York City**

**NYPD, 16****th**** Precinct **

**Manhattan Special Victims unit**

**Wednesday, 1 p.m.**

When she strode into the one-six, Casey's walk was fast and her expression damn near gleeful. She knocked on Cragen's door and dipped her head into his office. Looking up at her from behind his desk, Cragen waved her in.

"Montrose came through," she informed him. "He mentioned a name – Molinari – in the middle of one of his rants. God, that kid's a talker. Anyway, a records search indicates that there's a con named Giuseppe Molinari about forty-five minutes from the Ferrars' apartment."

Cragen nodded. "What's his record?"

"He did eight years in the 1980s – molested his seven-year-old nephew," Casey said, a smirk crossing her face. "It was plenty to get this." She placed a blue-jacketed document before him.

Cragen opened the paper, recognizing it as a search warrant for Molinari's apartment. "BENSON! STABLER!" he boomed. "C'mere!"

**-34-**

**New York City**

**Residence of Guiseppe Molinari**

**Wednesday, 4 p.m.**

Guiseppe Molinari was in the middle of a bubble bath when he heard a loud banging on his apartment door, followed by the briefest of silences and then the unmistakable crash of a door being kicked off its hinges.

The 67-year-old former sailor was running a washcloth over his leathery skin when he froze at the noises emanating from his living room; and had understood the words uttered by the shouting voices even though he wasn't wearing his hearing aid. "NYPD! MOLINARI!"

"I'm in the bathtub for Crissakes!" Molinari yelled back, panicked. In the twenty years he'd been performing work for Cesar Velez's operations in New York, he'd had plenty of close calls and had even been engaged in a high speed chase down the Jersey Turnpike. Still, the cops had never come to his home.

Yet here they were, and Molinari knew exactly why. Someone had talked. _Shit_. He should have known better; there were too many people involved. He should have just shown up and taken the stupid bat like he was supposed to. But then the beautiful boy had appeared – Christ, his one weakness. Soft brown hair, big blue eyes, and such an expressive, trusting look on his face. It had been _easy_ – just like his sweet nephew, Charlie. How was he supposed to resist such temptation? He hadn't meant to _break_ the damn bat – now they were _all_ looking for him. The cops, Velez, everyone.

Grabbing a towel and tying it around his considerably large waist, Molinari staggered into the living room and saw two NYPD officers, guns drawn and pointed at him from the opposite end of his semi-dark living room.

"What the hell is this?" he yelped.

"We're gonna have a look around," Stabler said, holding up a warrant. "Think we'll find anything interesting?"

"Just put your fucking guns down, Christ," Molinari said, waving his hands at them in exasperation. "I'm naked, I'm unarmed. Can I put on my shorts?"

"Please," Benson said, clearly unimpressed with all that he had on display. "And watch your hands." She kept her gun trained on Molinari while Elliot moved throughout the apartment, sweeping his hands across bookshelves and opening drawers.

"Hey, watch it!" Molinari started to protest, slowly pulling his clothes on.

"Nice photos," Elliot said, picking up an old Christmas card that Molinari had saved on a bookshelf. "This the nephew you touched? One that had you sent to Rikers?"

"I did my time, that's twenty years ago," Molinari growled. "What the hell is this about?"

"We think you still like little boys," Benson stated. "Only we think now you like to kill them."

"I didn't kill-" Molinari started, but Stabler's voice interrupted him, booming in from the bedroom down the hall.

"Hey, Benson, check _this_ out," he said, grinning as he walked back into the living room. In his left hand, wrapped up in a plastic sheet, he held a broken, bloodied baseball bat. "We just found our murder weapon."

"Giuseppe Molinari," Olivia snarled, putting her hand on the man's shoulder and turning him to face the wall. "You're under arrest for the murder of Mason Ferrars." She snapped handcuffs on his wrists and recited his Miranda rights as she and Elliot led him out of his apartment.

**-35-**

**New York City**

**NYPD, 16****th**** Precinct **

**Manhattan Special Victims unit**

**Wednesday, 7 p.m.**

The interrogation had been swift and, for Molinari, fatal. Convinced that Velez was angry at him for breaking the collateral instead of delivering it, he had already decided he safer confessing to the murder of Mason Ferrars than fighting the charges. Confessing spared him the needle; and he knew it would be harder – though not impossible – for Velez to have him executed in prison.

Olivia and Elliot were taking down his confession in the interrogation room when Munch and Fin bounded into the bullpen, eager to relay a report to their captain and Novak, who were wordlessly watching the scene unfold inside the room.

"Anything happen at the stakeout?" Cragen asked them. Munch's former partner, Michael Kowalski, was one of the DEA agents who had spent the day in a parked van listening to Darren Luna's telephone conversations. While the DEA had been crystal clear that Cesar Velez was _their_ mark, Kowalski was willing to keep Munch up to speed on the federal investigation.

"Oh, did it," Munch said, proud to be carrying the tidbit. "Guess who calls Luna an hour ago?"

Cragen stared at him blankly. He clearly harbored no intention of playing a guessing game.

"Velez himself," Fin provided, jabbing his fingers in the air for emphasis. "Says he just heard this Molinari turkey got himself popped, and he's _pissed_."

"How the hell could he know that already?" Casey snapped.

"Velez is a big man. Would I be surprised if he has a friend in booking?" Munch shrugged. "IAB should look at it. Point is, Velez is irate that his nephew's in the slammer and one of his best guys is being looked at. He's insisting on a face-to-face with Luna."

Having completed their paperwork, Elliot and Olivia joined the rest of the group in the bullpen just in time to hear Munch finish his report. "He's flying in _tomorrow_. Luna's arranging fake passports, the airplane tickets, the whole shebang."

"He's coming?" Olivia spoke immediately, her heart beating wildly. "Velez is coming to New York? Tomorrow?"

"Vitorio Gonzales is coming," Munch said, correcting her with a wry grin.

"When?" she asked, breathlessly.

Munch reached into his pocket and produced a slip of paper. A few lines of Munch's childish scrawl contained Velez's flight number, assumed name, time of arrival, and room number at the Roosevelt Hotel. He missed the fact that Elliot was looking at him warily.

"When's the DEA planning to pop him?" Elliot asked, his eyes trained on Olivia.

"At the sit-down with Luna. They'll get them both," Fin said, noticing Elliot's bizarre body language. He seemed angry that Munch had just shared the information with Olivia… but why? Weren't they all glad that, in all likelihood, the feds would be arresting Velez the next day?

"He's on his way here tonight," Olivia repeated, still visibly stunned at this development. She leaned against the wall, slumping a little and then catching herself before she dropped.

"Liv, a minute?" Elliot asked, taking his partner's hand and leading her from the bullpen into the squad room.

Near the privacy of their desks, Elliot shook his head and looked at her squarely. "I know what you're thinkin', Liv," he admonished. "And I swear to God, it's the stupidest idea you've ever had."

She came to quickly enough to purse her lips defensively. "Is that right?" she asked, coldly. "Why is that?"

"You wanna be the hero, you wanna be the one to go get the bad guy and bring your girlfriend home," he said.

"Stop condescending to me, Elliot," she warned.

"Why? You gotta listen. You're reacting emotionally, not intelligently. The DEA's been building a case against Velez for _years_. Let them collar him. Let them bring him to trial, and when that's done… you and Alex get to live happily ever after if that's what you want."

Olivia sat, silently calculating the number of months – years, even – that might pass between Velez's arrest and trial, then between trial and sentencing, between sentencing and appeal.

"Olivia," Elliot's voice was raised, his worry evident. "Talk to me, Liv. Tell me what you're-"

"What I'm thinking?" she interrupted. "Why don't you tell me, since you always seem to think you know before I do."

"Fine," he said, standing with his hands crossed in front of him. "I think you're sitting there trying to figure out how to kill this bastard yourself. I think you're sitting there thinking it's a good idea to go after him tomorrow, try to get to him before the DEA's trap."

"You think I'm sitting here plotting a murder?" she rose to her feet, indignant. "Do you know me at _all_, Elliot?"

He was silent, but his eyes didn't release their grip on hers. "I do know you," he finally said. "And that's how I know that you'd kill to protect the people you love. But Olivia," he said, his voice finally softening, "What good are you to Alex if you're dead?"

She stared at him for a long minute, and then grabbed her jacket and headed out of the precinct.

Casey entered the room a few moments later. "Where's Detective Benson?" she asked, looking around and seeing that Elliot was alone.

"She took off for the night," he revealed.

"We need to worry about her?" Cragen asked him.

Elliot was quiet for a few moments. "Nah," he finally said, deciding that Olivia just needed to blow off steam. He'd call her in the morning, make sure she wasn't actually going to do anything stupid. "She's okay."

"Usually she's the first to order a round of beers when we have a confession," Munch pointed out. "I thought she'd be ecstatic, especially considering the news about Velez."

"She's good," Elliot lied through a small smile. "Why don't we save the celebration for when Casey nails his ass to the wall, huh?"


	19. Chapter 19

**-36-**

**Williamsburg, Virginia**

**Wednesday, 8:15 p.m.**

For the first time in the three years they had been living together, Alex broke her rule about never eating dinner on the sofa. She also stopped pretending not to enjoy watching Debbie Lynne Mahoney's silly show. As the air-headed commentator announced that the NYPD had finally arrested a suspected killer in the Mason Ferrars case, she and Antonio erupted into loud cheers.

"But it wasn't Velez's nephew they arrested?" Antonio asked for clarification.

"No," Alex shook her head. "It sounds like it was someone else after all. Of course, they can't tell us everything on the news." She saw her own uncertainty reflected in his large brown eyes. "Now that they have a real lead, they're not going to let it go," she promised him, allowing herself to feel comforted by their shared hope. She touched his cheek tenderly, protectively. "We just have to trust that they're working hard and we're going home someday."

Antonio nodded. "It's kind of weird," he observed.

"How's that, Honey?"

"I was just starting to kind of like it here," he admitted, and then dutifully carried their plates into the kitchen, leaving Alex alone on the couch.

She watched his retreating form, the significance of his words sinking in. Looking around their home, she realized that the walls were all the same beige color that they had been when 'Sarah' and 'Miguel' had first moved in three years earlier. Not putting anything on the walls, not choosing a color scheme… these had been ways that Alex had comforted herself; as if by not allowing herself to become too attached to Sarah Reyes' life, she would never fully own it, never fully cease being Alexandra Cabot. But had that been fair to Antonio? There were days when she was unconvinced that this emotional compartmentalization was killing her; what must it do to a young child? Had it been cruel of her to alternately encourage him to get used to life as Miguel Reyes and yet encourage his hope that he would one day again be Antonio Montoya?

She stood and turned off the television when it became apparent that Debbie Lynne was going to dedicate the rest of her show to a runaway bride from Tallahassee. Looking at her own house, she observed that it was completely devoid of personality. For the millionth time, she wondered what Olivia's apartment was like. She knew the area – had heard Olivia giving the address to a cabbie when they'd shared a ride home after a night celebrating the successful resolution of a close case at a cop bar. She had felt a little foolish doing it, but a couple of days later she had driven by, feeling a rush at seeing even just the outside of Olivia's building coupled with a fear that she'd be spotted. What would the detective think if she caught the ADA casing her place?

But even before she had been forced to leave New York the first time, Alex had wondered what it would be like to go into the building, see the part of Olivia's life that she never had. She had imagined the inside of Olivia's apartment many times in the last three years, wondered whether Olivia had taken the time to make it her own, and enjoyed considering what that might be. Was Olivia's taste rustic or feminine? Did she adorn her walls with art and photographs? Was her furniture utilitarian or decorative? Was her detective a good housekeeper, or did she leave trails of dirty clothes down the hallway?

Realizing that she had no idea about the answers to any of these questions – and also that no matter what the answers were, they would only make Olivia more dear and beloved to her – Alex occupied her mind imagining endless possibilities. She contentedly saw herself in a thousand different apartments in the city with Liv – big and small, messy and neat, lavishly adorned and completely Spartan. The fantasies shared only one detail – they all involved coming home to the same beautiful, dark-eyed woman.

**-37-**

**New York City**

**Wednesday, 11:30 p.m.**

Olivia had been sitting in the corner booth for almost half an hour before she finally lifted the glass of amber liquid to her lips. She had deliberately driven away from the station, away from home – positive that the last thing she wanted was Elliot, or anyone, tracking her down and trying to invade these crucial solitary hours. She needed to be reflective, needed to be methodical, needed to be alone.

She had spent eighteen months wondering if Alex shared her feelings, and then had received confirmation only to spend the next three years wondering if she would ever have the opportunity to make a life with Alex – and now knew that she could. The only obstacle was Cesar Velez.

Olivia considered the way the DEA wanted the takedown to happen. Follow Velez. Trail him to the meeting with Luna. Arrest them both. It sounded good on paper – but Olivia had been through enough major trials to realize all of the probable obstacles. More than likely, jury selection in a case this high-profile would take a couple of months. By the time Velez actually went to trial, many of the witnesses against him would probably be killed or intimidated into a similar state of unavailability.

Even assuming there was a conviction solid enough to put him away forever, Olivia recognized that he wielded enough influence over enough people to be a threat from the inside. So long as Cesar Velez was breathing, Alex would never be safe enough to come home. The Feds' priority was putting Velez in prison; not eliminating the threat to Alexandra Cabot.

He had to die. The only question was how.

Elliot had been right; Olivia knew that she was no good to Alex if she was dead. She also knew that, despite her burning hatred for the man and all he represented, she was not a killer. Gunning him down was not an option – and even if it was, Velez was going to be followed by scores of federal agents from the moment he touched down. She wouldn't be much good to Alex if she was in prison for his murder, either.

Three hours and two drinks later, Olivia was closing herself into her small tenth-story apartment and walked through the living room, absently tossing her jacket onto a dining room chair she hadn't used as anything other than a coat rack in at least four years.

_What if it doesn't work_? She allowed herself a moment's doubt, and just as quickly banished the thought from her head. If she was going to do this, she would have to be sure; would have to be committed. Of course, there was a risk involved – but the potential reward was so great, Olivia knew it was worth it. It had to be. She had been waiting for this chance for three years, and knew it wasn't going to come again.

**-38-**

**New York City**

**Thursday, 11:00 a.m.**

The third time Elliot phoned her, Olivia knew she had to answer the call. Elliot was already on to her.

"Ya plannin' to show up today?" he asked, his tone annoyed.

"I'm not feeling great," Olivia fibbed into the cell, nodding at the Roosevelt Hotel valet as he took her key and motored the car into the hotel's underground parking lot.

"Liv," he muttered. "I've already called twice this morning."

"And I was sleeping in, I must have the flu or something," she said, perfectly aware that he didn't believe a word of what she was saying.

"So if I stop by with some chicken soup and girlie magazines, you're gonna greet me at the door?"

"Can't make that promise."

"Where the hell are you? What are you doing?" His voice was low, and Olivia almost felt guilty as she listened to her partner try to escape catching the attention of the other detectives. "Don't tell me you're doin' what I think you're doin', because if you are, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Elliot, I'm not doing what you think I'm doing," she assured him. "But you might still wanna kick my ass," she admitted.

"Where are you, Liv?" he asked again. This time his voice conveyed more concern and less judgment. She was tempted to tell him; but then realized that Elliot would never allow her to go through with her plan. He would feel obligated to step in and try to save the day – and she couldn't have that.

"I'm not going to do anything you're worried I might do," she said, vaguely.

"Not trying to do anything where you're gonna yourself killed, arrested, or fired?" he asked, sounding unconvinced. "You tell me why I don't tell Cragen you're out there trying to gun Velez down."

"Because I'm not," she replied tersely. "Why don't you tell me why you think allowing the DEA to arrest Velez and bring him to trial is going to bring Alex home?"

"Dammit, Olivia. You've always known just as well as I have that there's a real possibility Alex isn't coming home!" Elliot's voice was raised now, and Olivia hoped that he had found a private place to talk to her. Otherwise, it was a matter of minutes before the entire squad came looking for her.

"That's not a possibility I'm prepared to live with," she hissed, moving quickly through the lobby.

"You're at his fuckin' hotel, aren't you?"

"Elliot, leave me alone."

"Not a chance."

Olivia realized her line had gone dead, and sighed with exasperation. She had not expected Elliot to cheer her on, but she had no intention of telling him the exact nature of her plans. He would never approve; it was too risky. Too many things could go wrong. She was, after all, working without a net. This entire plot was a crapshoot at best – but if there was anything worth laying it all on the line, this was it.

Checking her watch, Olivia determined that it was now or never. She only had an hour before Velez was set to arrive at the hotel. An hour after that, he was due to leave for his meeting with Darren Luna. Although Olivia didn't see them, she was positive that the lobby was, at that moment, crawling with FBI and DEA agents. She instinctively felt for her weapon, tucked into her belt underneath her shirt. With a deep exhalation, she walked to the elevator bank. Confirming the room number Munch had given her, she pushed the button for the thirty-second floor.

A minute later, Olivia stepped into the hallway and, to her relief, saw a housekeeper placing new linens on a king-sized bed in the middle of a room with spectacular city views.

"Excuse me?" Olivia asked, startling the young woman.

"May I help you?" the housekeeper, who looked no more than eighteen, asked.

"NYPD," Olivia flashed her badge, which had been clipped to her belt. "I, uh… I need to borrow your uniform."

Three minutes and a hundred dollars later, the girl had gratefully agreed to take an extended cigarette break while Olivia slipped into the uniform, easily two sizes too large for her, and took her time cleaning the room into which Cesar Velez would soon enter.


	20. Chapter 20

**-38-**

**New York City**

**Sixteenth Precinct; Manhattan Special Victims Unit**

**Thursday, 11:15 a.m.**

_"Shit_," Elliot muttered, zipping his windbreaker and pulling his hat down over his forehead. He would have considered himself a fool for trusting Olivia not to go rushing in – but he hadn't. He had known that there was no way in hell she was going to come to work like it was any other day. And despite knowing it, despite seeing all the signs, despite knowing that he'd be doing the same damn thing if this was Kathy's return in the balance – he'd allowed Olivia to be alone all night and this morning; given her the time and space necessary for hatching whatever scheme she was up to. He just hoped he hadn't given his partner enough leeway to get herself killed.

"Where is she?" Cragen barked from behind him.

"Wha-huh?" Elliot turned.

"You were talkin' to Benson. It's after eleven."

"She said she was sick," Elliot parroted.

"Bullshit." Cragen looked no more convinced than Elliot had been. "I haven't gotten a call."

"She said she was sick," Elliot repeated, shrugging. "I'm gonna go check on her. Take her some soup and Ricola or something." He saw that Munch and Fin were staring, watching the awkward scene between the two men unfold.

"My office," Cragen commanded.

Elliot followed dutifully, and the captain slammed the door behind them so hard that it shook the blinds.

"What's she doing?" the older man demanded.

Elliot was silent for a moment, and then lifted his eyes to meet his commanding officer's. "I don't know," he admitted.

"She's your partner, goddammit. What the hell kind of answer is that?"

"Hey," Elliot started, feeling his temper grow short. He was surprised by Cragen's abnormally abrasive manner. "Why don't you let me go check on her and try to figure out what's happening before you assume I know more than I'm tellin' you?"

"You swear to me you have no idea where she is?" Cragen asked, inches from Elliot's face. For a fleeting moment, Elliot wondered if Cragen was about to hit him.

"I have an idea," Elliot responded, standing his ground. "Now, we can stand here arguing or we can try to stop her from making a big mistake."

"Christ, Olivia," Cragen stepped back, the anger that had lined his face dissipating, replaced by a look of worry and anxiety. "Why the hell does she have to do everything herself?" he muttered, not looking to Elliot for the answer. "Take Munch and Fin with you. I'll stay here with Novak to finish Molinari."

Elliot nodded, and turned.

"You're gonna have to call Munch's contact in the DEA if she's interfering with their setup," Cragen instructed.

Elliot nodded, and then looked back to Cragen. "You know we can't treat this like any other case. If Liv's a little out of line here, then…"

"I don't care about that, Elliot," Cragen said, steeling his eyes on the detective's. "Just bring her back alive, okay?"

"You got it, Cap," Elliot said, walking back into the squad room. Minutes later, he was in a squad car with Munch and Fin, heading to the Roosevelt Hotel and trying, unsuccessfully, to reach Olivia on her cell phone.

**-39-**

**New York City**

**The Roosevelt Hotel**

**Thursday, 11:20 a.m.**

Olivia felt a moment's panic when she heard her cell phone ringing inside her tote. She saw Elliot's name on the caller identification and almost picked it up, but realized there just wasn't enough time. Velez was scheduled to arrive in a matter of minutes, and she couldn't take a chance on being discovered before she was ready. She turned her phone onto silent mode and walked to the far wall, flipping the switch the housekeeper she had interrupted had informed her would alert the front desk that the room had been cleaned and was ready for occupancy.

Olivia walked into the bathroom, which she had absolutely no intention of cleaning, and made as large a mess as possible, pulling the towels from the rack and splashing water into the mirror. Returning to the bedroom, she crumpled the bed sheets and tossed a couch cushion onto the floor. _It's all worth it_, she reminded herself, reaching into her tote and removing the small audio/visual recording device she had used on previous undercover missions, positioning it on top of the chest of drawers, where it would not be easily noticed. She would need to get everything that was about to happen on the record. There could be no question of what had happened. Not if she was to preserve her job, her reputation, her liberty. There could be no question that the shoot was clean. If Velez didn't play directly into her hand, she knew that she couldn't do what needed to be done.

Looking once more into the room behind her, Olivia closed the door and walked into the next room on the floor, going about the unpleasant business of readying the room for occupancy while she kept an eye trained on the door of the room she had just left. She had to know whether Cesar was entering the room alone or with backup.

She was in the bathroom when she heard male voices across the hall. Looking around the door, she saw two large Latino men, one much older than the other. He was in his early 60s, had a large belly and wore an expensive suit. Olivia immediately recognized him from the photos on the FBI's most wanted website. The man in the olive jacket and wraparound shades was Cesar Velez – the drug lord, the murderer, the man who had turned her entire world upside down five years ago. Olivia felt her fingers wrap tightly around the bathroom counter as she steadied herself. All this waiting, all this plotting, and now he was here, just feet away from her – and he had no idea.

She quickly observed that the younger man, who wore his long hair in a ponytail, was a bodyguard of sorts. He stood in the hallway as Velez walked into the room. When Velez appeared, an angry expression on his face and Spanish curse words flying from his lips moments later, the young man disappeared into the room with him. Olivia smirked, glad that finding his room in such disarray had provoked Velez in just the way she had hoped.

Pretending not to have noticed, she continued to half-heartedly clean the room she was in until she heard a frazzled female voice addressing her from the hallway a few minutes later. "Hey, Detective." Olivia looked up and saw that the interloper was Mary, the young housekeeper who she'd interrupted earlier. "I just got a buzz from downstairs. Dude across the hall is _pissed _off that his room's a wreck."

Olivia nodded. "I'll take care of it."

"Nah, just… let me get another work shirt. I figure the hundred bucks is worth you keepin' that one, but not me getting fired. Time for me to get back to work."

"I'll follow you in and help," Olivia volunteered. "I got you into this mess."

"Whatever," Mary shrugged.

Olivia went into the bathroom retrieve her tote. Once inside, she dialed Elliot's number.

"What the _fuck_ is going on?" he answered, irritably.

"Hello, Elliot," she said, her calm voice hiding the pounding in her throat.

"Liv, don't dick me around. I'm five minutes from the Roosevelt. Am I going to find you there?"

"Yeah," Olivia said, deciding that it was too late for Elliot to stop her, but not too late for him to provide some backup if she needed it. "I'm about to go into his room. He's here."

"What the hell? No you're not," he said, in disbelief.

"I am. Listen, I-"

"No, no. You're not going in. Wait."

"-just wanted you to know where I am." She frowned at the phone. "I know what I'm doing, El." Flipping it shut, she placed the phone back into her tote and removed her gun, tucking it into the waistband of her jeans, hiding it beneath her sweater.

"Let's go," Mary encouraged, bounding out of the room and across the hall, where she knocked on Velez' door.

Olivia stood frozen, her nerves sending a current through her veins.

When the door opened, both Velez and his companion stood with their eyebrows raised, dour expressions on their faces. "I am a personal friend of the hotel owner," Velez informed Mary, his gaze traveling back and forth from her to Olivia. "He shall be most displeased to learn that his important guests do not even receive the courtesy of a clean room awaiting their arrival."

"I'm sorry," Mary said, trying to assuage him. Olivia made a note to slip her an extra something later – she was a sweet girl, and would probably catch hell for this.

"We could probably get your ass fired," the young man added gleefully. Looking salaciously at Mary, he added, "There are probably some things you could do to convince me not to talk to your boss about it, though."

Mary looked back at the man apprehensively, and he crassly reached for her ass and gave it a squeeze. Velez chuckled at her obvious discomfort.

Olivia stepped into the room and stood squarely in the center of the living room, right next to where she had purposefully tossed the couch cushion, watching the scene between Mary and Velez' bodyguard unfold. "Come here, sweetness," he said in a slimy voice. He looked to Velez questioningly. "OK if I have a little fun before the meeting?"

Velez shrugged. "That's entirely up to you." He looked to Olivia. "If my room has not been prepared to my satisfaction when I return, I shall not be so forgiving."

Olivia's eyes were still trained on Mary, and she felt sick at having inadvertently put the younger woman into this danger. The young man had come on her from behind, reaching his arm around her and fondling her breast through the thick fabric of her apron.

"Unhand her," Olivia heard herself say, finding her authoritative voice hiding somewhere below her gathered nerves.

"He'll do as he likes," Velez corrected her, stepping in front of Olivia to prevent her from walking closer to Mary as the other man pinned her to the wall and reached his clumsy hands between her legs as she cried out in fear. "And you'll clean my room while he does it."

Olivia took a moment to stare into Velez's eyes. They were dead, black – the eyes of a man who had made a fortune on the ruined lives of others, who had pushed drugs across borders and into the hands of young children. The man who had masterminded a criminal organization stretching from Bogata to New York City. The man who had been responsible for the deaths of dozens of cops, who had nearly been responsible for Alex's death.

"Does your friend the hotel manager know that you're a child killer, Mr. Velez?" Olivia asked as her fingers gripped her gun and pulled it from her waistband. She aimed her weapon at Velez's henchman. "Detective Olivia Benson, NYPD," she announced with as much authority as she could muster.

"What?" Velez turned to face Olivia, surprised to hear his name.

"Cesar Velez, you are under arrest for being an accomplice in the murder of Mason Ferrars, and an accomplice in an attempted sexual assault," she said, knowing both charges were stretches. She turned to the younger man, on whom her weapon was still trained. "Get your filthy hands off her!"

"Hey, you got it," the man stammered, pushing Mary away from him so hard that she hit the wall with a thud. He started to reach for his own weapon, and Mary reacted quickly, jumping on him, clawing and biting at him as he struggled to regain his balance.

Velez reached into his pants and drew a Glock handgun, pointing it at Olivia. She moved her arm, aiming her weapon at Velez. Her trigger finger felt ten times heavier than usual, and she steeled herself to wait until the perfect moment.

"Killing a cop is an automatic death sentence, Mr. Velez," she reminded him, her gaze falling on Cesar, her weapon still pointed at his companion.

"Do you have any idea how many police officers I've had killed?" he muttered. "And how many needles do you see in my arm?"

"You've put plenty of needles into other peoples' arms," she hissed. "Like Mason Ferrars."

"Collateral damage," Velez said coolly, drawing his gun.

"Is that all Alex was? Collateral damage?" she demanded.

"What?"

It occurred to Olivia that Velez had no idea what she was talking about. To her, Alexandra Cabot had been everything worth living for. To him, she had been just another white hat who had gotten in the way, another problem to be eliminated. She hated him all the more because he was so oblivious to the consequences his heartless decisions visited upon the lives of so many.

"Little girl," he spoke to her condescendingly. "You are clearly far out of your league." He smirked arrogantly. "You think you can put a pair of handcuffs on me and I'll leave this room with you willingly? Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

"Do you?" she challenged.

Velez laughed. "It's been too long since I've personally put a cop in the ground," he said to the other man, a tone of nostalgia in his voice. "This is going to be fun." He aimed his gun at Olivia's head, and murmured, "Say a prayer."

As quickly as she could, Olivia swung her weapon in front of her chest and fired twice. She saw red cover Velez's shirt as he slumped forward, and then felt the jolt of a jackhammer inside her own chest. Gasping, Olivia felt her lungs squeezing for air as she hit the ground, a burning liquid covering her gut. She looked up to see Velez's young companion standing over her, a terrified expression on his face and a gun in his hand.

Olivia was vaguely aware of what sounded like dozens of people rushing into the room, thought she caught a glimpse of a DEA windbreaker as the room was stormed. The searing pain she had felt moments before fled her body and all she could see was white.


	21. Chapter 21

**-40-**

**New York City**

**Bellevue Hospital**

**Thursday, 2:40 p.m.**

When Kathy Stabler arrived at Bellevue, she found her husband sitting on a bench against the wall of a long hallway, his head down and his hands balled into fists at his side. John and Fin paced in nervous circles around him, and Don looked forlornly through the window of a closed door. On the other side, Olivia was in surgery.

"Elliot!" Kathy exclaimed, and then rushed to his side.

"Hey Kath." He looked up at her, his eyes red and watery.

"Is she okay?" Kathy asked quickly. In the ten years Olivia Benson had been working with her husband, the two women had forged a deep and protective friendship, bonded by their mutual and entirely different kinds of love for the same man. Olivia, who had many times risked her life to protect Elliot, and for whom Elliot had so often risked his, was as much a part of her family as her own sisters.

Elliot shook his head. "It could be a while before we know. The DEA stormed the room when they heard the gunshots, and it was another five minutes before the EMTs got to Liv. She's lost a hell of a lot of blood, and was in shock, seizing." He squeezed Kathy's hand. "The next few hours are critical."

Sitting beside Elliot on the bench, Kathy placed her hand on his thigh and kissed his cheek softly. "Where was she hit?"

"Abdomen," he said softly. "Might be a kidney." He was quiet for a moment, considering the very real possibility that his partner may not pull through surgery. In a sudden violent movement, he stood and jabbed his fist into the concrete wall so hard that he cried out in pain.

"Elliot," Kathy choked, trying to calm him even as tears fell from her own eyes. "Honey, stop…"

"Dammit, I should never have left her alone this morning," he shouted, his pain giving way to rage. "I know her too well to think she'd have stayed out of this. I didn't act fast enough and I let her get herself…" He could not bring himself to finish the sentence. _Let herself get killed_?

"I'm the one who gave her all the information she needed to go charging in," John stated flatly, walking over to them and acknowledging Kathy with a small kiss on the cheek. "I never thought in a million years that she'd go all Elliot Ness."

"Yeah, what the hell was that, anyway?" Fin said, shaking his head. He looked every bit as distressed as the other two detectives, his face drawn and pale. "Why didn't Olivia think the Feds could handle this without her help?" He didn't mention the fact that he'd overheard a handful of DEA officers cursing Olivia's name for messing up their years-in-the-making takedown, at which they'd hoped to capture both Luna and Velez.

Cragen turned to look at Elliot, realizing everyone else was waiting for some sort of explanation. It occurred to Elliot that Cragen was the one other person in the precinct who had automatically assumed that when Olivia didn't arrive at work that morning, it meant she had gone after Velez.

"If the Feds had arrested Velez, it still wouldn't have meant Alex could come back," Elliot said flatly. "Olivia had to make it safe."

"She did this for Alex?" Fin asked, incredulously. "Nearly got herself killed?"

"They were close." Cragen kept his explanation short, walking closer to his squad of detectives.

Elliot frowned, hating that Cragen referred to both of the women in past tense. "They are close," he corrected. "They're…" his voice trailed off.

"Ohhh," John said, a look of surprised realization crossing his features.

"They're what?" Fin asked, oblivious.

Cragen shot Fin a look.

"Ooooooh," he said, quickly. "No kidding? Benson and Cabot? Damn. How'd I miss that for so long?" He turned to look at the closed door, wondering how Olivia was faring in surgery on the other side.

"They missed it, too," Elliot said, sadly. "They still haven't really gotten a chance to be happy together." He looked to Cragen. "How'd you know, anyway?"

Cragen frowned at him. "You're forgetting I was a detective when you were in short pants. I know some things."

Elliot didn't have the energy to smile, but he managed a small "Hmmmph."

Cragen looked up and gestured to Casey, who had just entered the hallway with a weary expression on her own face. "The DEA just confirmed that Cesar Velez is dead," she announced.

"We got word a few minutes ago," Elliot informed her.

"How is she?"

He shook his head. "Don't know yet."

Fin looked into the room, was unable to see anything, and turned back to the group. "Has anyone called Cabot yet?"

Cragen nodded. "Hammond's going to be making that call."

"No," Elliot said, standing. "Tell him to let me." He straightened his shoulders. "It's going to be a lot to handle – Velez is dead, Olivia's… well, we don't know." He paused. "Alex doesn't need to hear that from someone she barely knows. It should be me."

Cragen nodded. "Call Hammond." He pulled out the agent's business card. "If he hasn't already made the call, you might be able to convince him."

**-41-**

**Williamsburg, VA**

**Thursday, 5:45 p.m.**

Antonio frowned as he held up a golden jersey, trying to determine how it would look against his dark skin. Angie laughed at him, a smile on her face. "You'll look a little like a banana," she informed him. "But that's okay – you're lucky that Coach Luke picked you. His team always makes semis."

Down the aisle, Alex and Nathan watched their children pick out the equipment they would need to start the season.

"Soccer's kind of pricey, huh?" Alex said, mentally calculating the cost of the various pads, accessories, cleats, and socks she was about to buy. Her decision that Antonio should participate in sports had been so definite before she'd confronted the realities that sports could be expensive hobbies.

Nathan grinned sheepishly. "Just wait until he gets to high school, Sarah," he cautioned. "Do you know how many calls I've gotten from parents wondering why the school can't provide all the equipment?"

She laughed good-naturedly. "Can't wait," she groaned. She felt a vibration inside her purse. "Excuse me," she said, reaching for her phone. Glancing at the caller ID, she felt her pulse quicken when she saw a 212 area code. _New York_. This had happened once before, and the caller turned out to be American Express, wondering why her payment was late. Still, she found herself feeling a rush of hope – and then chastised herself for being so foolish.

Waving apologetically at Nathan, she ducked into a nearby aisle and opened her telephone. "Hello?"

There was silence on the line.

"Hello, this is Sarah," she tried again.

"Alex."

The voice was unmistakable. "El…Elliot?" she whispered.

"Yeah, Alex – it's me. Are… are you in a private spot?"

Alex looked at the busy store around her. Nathan appeared around the corner, laughing loudly with Antonio and Angie, helping Antonio order a shirt with the name 'M. Reyes' printed on the back.

"No," she admitted. "Oh, God, Elliot, it's so… it's so good to hear your voice." She felt tears pooling at the corners of her eyes as she tried to keep her voice low. It finally occurred to her to ask why he was calling. "What's wrong?" she asked. _Something must be terribly wrong… why isn't Olivia calling?_

"It's… well, it's Velez, obviously," Elliot's voice was low, measured. "Alex, he's dead."

"What?" she gasped, quickly sitting down on a bench designed for trying on shoes. "Wh-when?"

"Today. This morning."

Alex felt her lips lifting at the corners slowly at first, and then until a grin covered her entire face. It occurred to her. Elliot was calling because Olivia was already on her way to Williamsburg to bring Alex home. Of course!

"Where's Olivia?" Alex asked, smiling. "Is she… is she with you?"

"Alex," he said softly, and she felt her heart sink. She looked up and saw Nathan looking at her questioningly from across the store.

"Elliot, what's going on?" she asked, panicked. "Is Liv all right?"

"No," he said, his voice cracking. "She's at Bellevue. I mean, I'm at Bellevue, too." He sighed. "Alex, she's been shot. The bullet lacerated her kidney. We're not sure if she's gonna…" He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't want to say it, and he knew she wouldn't want to hear it.

"Oh God," she breathed, closing her eyes.

"There's a chance, there's still a chance," he said, allowing her to cling to the hope that was sustaining him.

"You're calling me because it's safe for me to come?"

"Yeah. The doctors say we'll know pretty soon if Liv's going to make it. They found the bullet about half an hour ago, just behind her right kidney. Her, ah, her abdomen is really, really swollen," he said, obviously having difficulty sharing the news. "They're making sure the bullet didn't hit her stomach or any other organs. They don't think it's damaged her intestines or her liver, because so far she hasn't gone septic."

"So far?"

"They've been operating for a few hours. If they can establish that there's no hemorrhage, they'll probably remove the damaged kidney and she'll pull through. If there's something they haven't found, that might not be possible." He paused. "Look, Hammond probably could have called you a little sooner, but I thought you would appreciate hearing this from me."

"I would have appreciated knowing it was okay to get my ass on a goddamn airplane so that I could be with Olivia," she said, her voice raising.

"Alex," Elliot countered, his voice shaken and empty. _Nice to know she hasn't changed a bit._

"I'm sorry, Elliot," she sighed. "This is all a little… a lot…"

"I know. I bet."

"Everyone's there with her?"

"Kathy just went home to the kids, but she's coming back later. John and Fin are checking in, but… you know, they can't stay here all day. Cap's letting me stay here until we know more."

"I need to pack a suitcase."

"Of course."

"I need a ticket to New York."

"I'll talk to Hammond about arranging that."

"I need to figure out what to do with my son while I'm there."

He was quiet for a moment. "Wh-what?"

Alex shook her head. "I'll let Agent Hammond explain that part to you. I'll see you as soon as humanly possible."

"Okay," he said, clearly still thrown by the mention of a son.

"Elliot, you keep her alive," Alex commanded.

"She's not going anywhere before she sees you again," he responded simply. "I'm sure about that. So you just keep her alive when you get here."

"Deal."

Alex closed her phone, took a moment to collect herself, and then numbly walked over to the checkout. She pulled out a credit card and silently covered Antonio's portion of the bill. As the foursome walked out to Nathan's waiting SUV, Alex turned to her new friend.

"Nate?"

"Yep?"

"I have a huge favor to ask," she implored, noting that the children were already in the backseat, out of earshot.

"Sure, Sarah. What do you need?"

"I just had a phone call."

"I know," he smiled. "Looks like it was kind of… important."

"It was," she nodded, not wanting to tell him everything just yet. She knew Elliot had just promised her it was safe, but she didn't want to shock Nathan or risk him thinking her crazy before asking him for such a favor. And while she would not otherwise have normally have trusted anyone with the care of her son, she knew Nate Hendrix to be a good man and a reliable policeman. Who better? "It was about a very… a very dear friend of mine," she explained. "She's a cop. She was… she was shot today."

"Oh, wow," Nathan said, placing a comforting hand on Alex's shoulder. "I'm so sorry. Is she all right?"

"I don't know," Alex said, tears starting to flow. She summoned all the reserve she could and forced herself to maintain composure. She didn't want the children to see her lose it. "Listen, I'd like to visit her in the hospital. Would it be too huge an imposition if I asked you to allow Miguel to stay with you through Sunday night? I'll fly back in on Monday and be there to pick him up from school."

"Of course," he answered quickly. "It's my weekend with Angie, and she gets tired of hanging out with Dad all the time."

"Thanks, Nate," Alex said, allowing herself to fall into his comforting embrace.

"Sure, of course," he said, kissing the top of her head tenderly. For the first time, Alex felt no discomfort or uncertainty about his intentions. "Let's get you home so you can pack him a weekend bag."


	22. Chapter 22

**-42-**

**Atlantic Airlines**

**Flight 35**

**Thursday, 10:10 p.m.**

Alex was relieved to find out that, at the last possible moment, Hammond had managed to get her a seat – an _aisle_ seat, mercifully – on a flight to New York City leaving just hours after Elliot's call. Nathan had been wonderful, waiting for her as she packed a suitcase for herself and a bag for Antonio's stay that weekend, and then driving her to the airport.

The scene at home had not been pleasant. Antonio had followed her into her bedroom while Nathan and Angie waited in the living room. "What's happening? Where are you going?" he had asked, frantically.

"Listen to me, Honey," she had said, placing her hands on his arms and sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to New York."

"What?" His face registered complete disbelief.

"I don't have a lot of time right now," she said, feeling the tears beginning to well, trying to will them from falling down her cheeks. "But Elliot – Detective Stabler – called me while we were at the store. Cesar Velez has been killed."

"We can go home?" he asked, uncertain.

"Yes, soon. Soon we can go home." She put her arms around him and held him close for a second.

Pulling away from her, he asked, "Then why are you going tonight? Why can't I go with you?"

Alex covered her trembling lip with her hand and fought to maintain her composure as she tried to make him understand. "I'm not going back to stay this time, Honey. I'm going to the hospital. Olivia was hurt today." She brushed away the tears that had fought through her resolve and streaked down her cheeks. "She was hurt very badly, and there's a chance that she might not survive."

"I want to go with you," he insisted.

"You can't, not this time," she said, shaking her head. "Soon you will. Soon we'll go and you'll see your family, your friends. But I'm going to be at the hospital all weekend this time. I won't be able to take you anywhere, and you don't want to spend three days in a hospital, okay?"

"It's not fair. I can stay with my Aunt Carla," he pointed out. "Why do you get to go home and not me?"

"Don't fight me on this," she countered, resolutely. Her temper was worn as thin as her nerves. "You're staying with Nathan and Angie, and we'll talk about everything else next week."

He had watched sadly as she threw together two bags, and she had not had the energy to continue arguing with him. She knew that his frustration was not borne of selfishness but a genuine longing for home and family. Ultimately, she understood. Yet, she knew that she could not possibly attend to anything other than Olivia this weekend. They had been waiting long enough.

Nathan had briefly asked her about why she was traveling to New York when she was from Alabama. Antonio had glared at her from the backseat, no doubt wondering whether the fact that they could now go home safely meant that they could stop lying. She had responded that the friend had moved to New York not long ago, and he had not belabored the point. Antonio had shaken his head, and Alex tried not to focus on him, but on the fact that she would be breathing the same air as her beloved Olivia in a matter of hours.

Now, four hours after that uncomfortable scene, she was on a 747 taxiing into La Guardia. The twenty minutes in between landing and deplaning dragged on for what felt like an eternity, and the walk from the terminal to the arrival gate – where John Munch stood, obviously not recognizing her on first site – was the longest walk of her life.

"Detective Munch," Alex heard herself say the familiar name, and it jolted her back from the fog she had been in since hearing from Elliot that morning.

John turned his head, and did a double-take. The hair was brown, the face was fuller, the glasses were decidedly less expensive, and she was wearing sweatpants and sneakers. Still, the piercing blue eyes were unmistakable. "Teflon," he said affectionately, smiling for the first time that day.

Seeing him, a living, breathing part of her former life – her _real _life – brought all of the emotions she had been struggling with to the surface. Before Alex realized what was happening, she was clinging to John as though he was the only thing keeping her anchored to the world; crying hot tears into his shoulder, staining his shirt as he held her tightly and led her through the airport and into his parked car.

**-43-**

**New York City**

**Bellevue Hospital**

**Thursday, 11:00 p.m.**

Halfway to the hospital, and halfway through John Munch's account of how Olivia had ended up in the hospital, Elliot had called with the news that Olivia's right kidney had been successfully removed and she was on her way to the recovery unit. "Her pulse is kind of low, but she's not in too much shock," he reported to Alex. "Hopefully she'll seep through the night and be able to explain what the hell she was thinking sometime tomorrow morning."

On the way, Alex had gotten the rest of the story from Munch. She was alternately impressed and horrified that Olivia had gone charging off into battle with Velez like some kind of white knight. John had dropped her off at the hospital with a peck on the cheek and a promise to check in the next morning. With her small suitcase at her side, Alex walked into the hospital and found her way to the room number Elliot had provided.

Just as she moved toward the closed door, she heard Elliot's familiar voice. "Cabot?"

She turned, surprised by how foreign her own name sounded. "Elliot," she said, hugging him.

"Brunette now, huh?" he teased, lifting a lock of her hair as he released her from his tight embrace.

"Believe me, it's not staying brown for long," she said decisively.

"Beautiful either way," he assured her, and then released a long breath. "I saw her a few minutes ago – she's out like a light until the morning at least. I'm gonna head home, be back here first thing."

Alex frowned at him. "Don't feel like you have to leave just because I'm here, Elliot. Do you want to come in?"

He shrugged. "You've been waiting three years, and I know she's gonna be all right. She's all yours, Counselor."

"See you in the morning, Elliot," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

"Yeah. Hey, Alex?"

"Hmm?"

"How's motherhood working out for ya?" There was a mischievous glint in his eye. For too long, he'd been the squad's only parent with young children.

She smiled softly. "Antonio's not thrilled that he couldn't come to New York tonight, but I think we'll be fine. He's a good kid."

"It's a good thing you did, not letting him get mixed up in-" he cut himself off, waving his hands. "We'll have plenty of time to catch up. You go in and see Olivia."

She nodded at him as he turned to go, and closed her fingers around the cold metal door knob, turning it slowly, as if the slightest wrong touch would send her back to Williamsburg. On the other side of the door, a bed was set up with numerous IV tubes and a ventilator. In the middle of all of the equipment was her Olivia, covered to the chest with a baby blue sheet, looking as pale as a ghost.

Alex heard herself gasp when she saw Olivia, and felt herself floating over, her feet not seeming to even touch the floor. Olivia's hands were propped neatly at her sides, and she was soundly asleep. Lowering her face close to the bed, Alex concentrated on the steady intake and exhalations of breath, affirming for herself that Olivia was very much alive.

Crying softly, Alex lifted her fingers to Olivia's face and traced the other woman's angular jaw, ran her thumb along Olivia's lips. "Olivia," she murmured, caressing the detective's soft hair. Though she knew that she could not be heard or felt, she slowly planted kisses on each of Olivia's closed eyelids, whispered, "I'm here, Baby… I love you so much," into her ear, and softly pressed her lips against Olivia's, savoring even these one-sided touches.

After a few minutes of watching Olivia breathe and gently caressing her stunning features, Alex was interrupted by a nurse who walked into the room and announced that she was there to deliver Olivia's pain medication. "This drip will last about eight hours," she explained to Alex. "Someone will come in the morning to replace the supply. If you need anything," she gestured to a 'call' button – "just press that and we'll have someone in shortly. We're monitoring all of her vitals, so don't be afraid to go to sleep. If something happens overnight, we'll know about it right away."

Alex nodded appreciatively. "Is there any reason to suspect that anything will go wrong tonight?"

"There's always a chance of shock with gunshot victims," the nurse advised. "But she was a trooper in surgery. My money's on a good night's sleep for that one."

Alex smiled and thanked the nurse. As soon as she left, Alex assembled the small cot folded against the hospital wall. She pushed it as close as possible to Olivia's bed, and, impulsively, reached up to cover Olivia's hand with her own. Bringing it to her lips, she kissed each finger. "My love," she whispered. "My heart." Her hand holding Olivia's, her body twisted into a position that was not at all comfortable but which allowed her the most proximity to the other woman, Alex finally allowed herself to drift into a fitful sleep, dreaming of the morning, when Olivia would finally be able to kiss her back.


	23. Chapter 23

**-44-**

**Bellevue Hospital**

**Friday, 7:10 a.m.**

Alex had finally slipped into a halfway restful sleep after waking up several times during the night, mostly because her refusal to let go of Olivia's hand had forced her to remain in a very uncomfortable position on the edge of the cot. When the nurse came in just after seven, she heard herself growl irritably, turning her neck to work out a crick.

"Just changing the IV drip," said a friendly voice. Alex looked up and saw that there was a different nurse on duty.

"Thanks," she murmured, rousing herself from the cot. She took her bag into the bathroom and brushed her teeth, combed her hair and pulled it into a loose ponytail. If she wanted a shower; it would have to happen somewhere else. This room was positively minimal. Alex considered the practicality of having Olivia moved to a bigger room if she had to stay another night, and then decided that practicality could be damned. Her first official act as the resurfaced heiress to the Cabot fortune would be to spend as much money as it took for Olivia to be comfortable as long as she was stuck here.

Alex exited the small bathroom and inhaled sharply when she saw that Olivia's eyes were open, and the detective was slowly orienting herself, looking around the room.

Olivia's eyes found Alex, and her expression changed instantly. Despite the dull ache in her abdomen, she was able to form a broad smile, looking at the younger woman with a gaze of near worship. Alex looked so different – the hair was a dull brown and pulled into a lazy ponytail, she wore no makeup, and Olivia didn't think she'd ever seen Alex dressed so casually. The glasses were cheap, and the posture was decidedly more slouched, less take-on-the-world. Still, the blue eyes were sharp and clear enough to penetrate Olivia down to the most intimate reaches of her soul. The smile that played on Alex's lips was the same one that had almost undone Olivia every time she had ever seen it.

"Hey," Olivia said softly, beaming at her visitor. "You really there?" she asked softly.

Alex nodded silently, walking closer to Olivia. She opened the hallway door and slipped the "Privacy Please" sign onto the door, worried that they would soon be interrupted by another nurse or by Elliot. She felt confident that Olivia would agree that breakfast could wait.

She walked back into the room, and, as carefully as she could, she sat on the edge of Olivia's hospital bed. She tentatively placed an open palm on Olivia's chest, feeling the sweet pulsing of the detective's heart beneath it.

Wordlessly, Olivia lifted her hand to Alex's face, traced her cheeks and ears, and then gently pulled Alex's face closer to her own. She breathed in the sweet, intoxicating scent that was all Alex, the bright smile never leaving her face. This was a tender moment that she wanted to savor for the rest of her life. Though weak, Olivia found enough energy to lift her own head, move it close enough to kiss Alex's lips softly.

Alex's eyes were focused on Olivia's, both women silently exploring one another's faces with their hands. Alex felt the sob welling in her chest before it pushed itself out of her body, and the next thing she knew, she was lying on the edge of the hospital bed, pressed against Olivia's recovering body, her face buried in Olivia's chest while the detective stroked her arm tenderly, kissing her forehead.

"I'm okay, Sweetheart," Olivia assured her. "I'm fine. Everything's okay."

Alex shook her head and wiped roughly at her own tears. She lifted her eyes back to Olivia's, and looked at her imploringly. Finally, she spoke. "Olivia," she whispered. "You idiot!"

After a brief stunned silence, Olivia laughed until it hurt. "Oh," she said, touching her own abdomen. "Don't worry, Counselor…. 'sonly a scratch."

"A scratch?" Alex countered, irritably.

"A little tummy ache. I'll be fine."

"Olivia, you were in surgery for almost nine hours. _They removed your kidney_." Alex felt herself getting angrier as she spoke. "IAB's probably investigating whether or not you get to keep your badge. You nearly got yourself killed. Elliot's devastated, he blames himself. I'm a basketcase. What the hell do you-"

"Shhhhh," Olivia said, smiling through Alex's diatribe. "You're back here in my arms," she reminded the former prosecutor. "Whatever else happens, that's all that matters to me. You're safe, you're here, and I'm never letting you go again."

Alex knew it wasn't quite that simple, but she also recognized that this was not the time to belabor that point. "I love you, Baby," Alex whispered, her body melting at the knowledge that this time, Olivia heard her say it. "I love you even more than when I left you last time."

"Me too," Olivia squeezed Alex closer, stroking her hair tenderly as Alex gently kissed her throat. "I love you, Sweetheart. My life never felt complete with you, Alexandra…"

Alex felt a surge of arousal run through her body as Olivia spoke her name, and her kisses became hungrier, less safe. She sucked and licked at Olivia's throat, listening contentedly to the small moans her movements elicited from the other woman.

Olivia tried to reposition herself, giving Alex more room on the hospital bed, but the attempt only caused her to grunt in pain.

"Be careful," Alex cautioned, worried. "You're not ready for too much right now."

Olivia shook her head. "If I don't make love to you soon, Alex, I'm going to explode. I can handle this."

Alex frowned, and lifted the covers. Olivia's midsection was wrapped tightly in gauze, so stiff that she couldn't move. "Not until we know it's safe," she said, regrettably. She planted a tender kiss on Olivia's lips. "But I'm pretty sure this part is okay," she murmured, parting her lips and drawing Olivia closer, hearing herself moan with desire as Olivia's tongue pushed past her own lips.

Involuntarily, Alex's hips began moving against Olivia's thigh as their kissing intensified, and she felt herself growing increasingly wetter at the delicious friction.

Olivia, glad that Alex seemed to have momentarily forgotten her resolve to wait for the doctors' permission, slipped her right hand under the waistband of Alex's sweatpants. Despite her weakened state, she felt herself respond immediately to Alex's quickened breathing and rocking hips. For the moment, her aching abdomen was completely forgotten.

Olivia's fingers played lazily in thin layer of hair between Alex's legs, their mouths still pressed together as their tongues pushed gently into and past each other.

"God, Baby," Alex murmured, pulling her mouth away from Olivia's. "I need you… I need to feel you inside me…"

"Yes," Olivia said, tugging at Alex's loose pants as they gently shifted themselves on the uncomfortable, small bed, so that Alex straddled Olivia's hips without putting any weight on her sore torso.

"We have to be careful," Alex reminded Olivia, leaning forward to kiss her. She placed her hands on Olivia's breasts and massaged them gently through the thin material of the hospital gown.

"We've never been careful," Olivia reminded her lover.

Alex smirked. "Just try not to give yourself a heart attack – take it easy," she instructed.

Olivia smiled. "Come here," she whispered, placing her right hand on Alex's bare bottom and pushing her down onto Olivia's hips. Olivia indulged her desire to push her hips back toward Alex in response to Alex's movements, but the movement sent a shock of pain through her body. "Ugh," she grunted, unable to hide her reaction from Alex.

"Liv, are you sure…" Alex asked, concerned.

"Yes," Olivia said quickly. "Maybe, though, there's something to be said for taking it easy," she admitted.

"Come here," Alex removed her left from Olivia's breast and used it to guide Olivia's free hand toward her, cradling Olivia's fingers as they slipped through her slippery lips.

"God, Alex," Olivia moaned, wishing desperately that she was able to express physically all of the passion she felt. She accepted, finally, that they would have to wait for that.

Alex lifted herself higher, and then slowly lowered herself onto Olivia's waiting fingers. They both gasped as Olivia's long fingers pushed into Alex's slick skin, and Alex began lifting and lowering herself in a steady rhythm that pleased them both, allowing Olivia to savor the feeling of being inside her without having to exert herself more than necessary.

"You okay?" Alex whispered as she held Olivia's hand, keeping it steady as the detective's fingers pumped in and out of her. "Is this hurting you at all?"

Olivia shook her head, her eyes half-closed dreamily. "Making love with you could never hurt me," she said, although they had proven a few minutes ago that that wasn't exactly true.

Emboldened by this assurance, Alex's hips lowered until they rested on Olivia's, Olivia's long fingers completely buried inside Alex. Resting her weight on the hand she was using to grip the edge of the hospital bed for balance, Alex pushed herself closer to Olivia, feeling the tips of Olivia's fingers pushing against the rough spot inside her that brought her so much pleasure. "Mmmm…." she moaned, forgetting for the moment that they were in this hospital, that Olivia was recovering from a serious surgery. In this moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist. All she could feel was the sensation of being completely filled by the woman she loved, her own hand covering Olivia's and holding it tight inside her as Olivia laid against the pillows, her own head thrown back, her throat exposed in ecstasy, her breathing heavy.

Alex watched as Olivia's chest rose and fell in steady, quick movements, and was vaguely aware of the increased beeping that signified a higher pulse than normal. "Shhhhh," she said, slowing her movements in an attempt to bring Olivia's heart rate down a little. "We don't need them to come check on you…"

"I'll tell 'em I've never been better," Olivia smiled, quickening the pace of her fingers drumming Alex's g-spot.

Alex loosened her grip on the bed, placing both of her hands on either side of Olivia's face, caressing her lover as she felt her muscles constrict and then loosen around Olivia's fingers. As her muscles tightened, Olivia's fingers seemed to fill her even more completely, and she was aware of a twitching inside her that foretold the climax that soon overtook her, causing a warm rush of wetness to escape from Alex as a feeling of absolute serenity came over her, her muscles turning to jelly as she collapsed onto Olivia's hips, her head falling onto the detective's chest, unable to sit any longer.

Olivia exhaled slowly, delighting in the feeling of Alex lying next to her, her fingers still soaked with Alex's juices. Deliberately, she brought her own fingers to her lips and sensuously sucked the wetness from them, watching Alex's expression change from surprise to delight at the overtly sexual gesture.

"You're the sweetest thing I've ever tasted," Olivia murmured, caressing Alex as they drifted into a light slumber.


	24. Chapter 24

**-45-**

**Bellevue Hospital**

**Friday, 9:30 a.m.**

Alex was the first to wake from their lust-induced slumber, and had used the room's tiny sink to freshen up as much as possible. She typically showered at least twice every day, being somewhat germphobic. This wasn't going to do at all. Alex removed the 'Privacy Please' sign from the door, thinking it best that the nurses come and go as they pleased.

When Olivia finally opened her eyes, Alex was looking at her with love and concern written across her fine features.

"Have I told you that you're a beautiful brunette?" Olivia smiled, unable to hide the wince of pain.

"Don't get used to it, I'm changing it immediately," Alex chuckled. "I miss looking like myself." She stopped talking when she saw Olivia's expression. "Baby, how bad is it?"

"Oh this? This is nothin'," Olivia lied.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't do the strong, stoic thing for my benefit," Alex insisted. "Olivia, I've been shot, and I _know_ it's excruciating. What you've been through sounds like it was a lot worse." She played with Olivia's hair. "If it hurts, I want you to tell me so I can get your medicine. You can't fake your way through this, okay?"

"Promise," Olivia said. A second later, she acknowledged, "This really hurts."

"Need more drugs?"

"What'cha got?"

"Morphine drip."

"Oooh, yeah. Hit me up."

"You're in luck, Kid," Alex smirked, pressing the release button just as the nurse had shown her. "The first one's free."

A couple of minutes later, Olivia had relaxed, the pain subsiding temporarily. "Honey?" Alex asked, tentatively.

"Hmm?"

"I need to talk to you about something… something important." Alex paused. Usually, she had ample opportunity to rehearse her important speeches. Her opening arguments, interrogations and summations had all been worked through at least a dozen times before they were delivered. This time, however, she had not had any time to prepare. From the moment she heard Elliot's voice until right now, she had been concerned only with Olivia's safety.

"Okay," Olivia had looked into her eyes, her expression concerned and open. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Alex sighed. "I know you remember Antonio Montoya, the little boy who testified against Liam Connors."

"Of course. Sweet kid – he was so brave."

Alex nodded. "I agree. You know, they whisked us both away right after that trial – I hated not saying goodbye to you, like I told you I would." She felt herself fighting back tears again. "It broke my heart thinking about you finding out I was gone before we'd said goodbye."

"It was…" Olivia started to say that it was like Alex had died all over again, but didn't. Even in her drugged state, she wanted to spare Alex knowing how badly it had wrecked her. "It was hard for me, too."

"They took the two of us to a safe house in Delaware that night," Alex shared. "And explained that I was being given an identity in Williamsburg, Virginia. Antonio was going to be placed in foster care in Lincoln, Nebraska."

Olivia sighed. "That's horrible," she said, her voice heavy. "There are some very decent foster parents," she tried to comfort Alex. I know we've seen the worst of what can happen, but we can't assume that he's in a bad home."

"Here's the thing," Alex said, her voice tentative. "I _know_ he's in a decent home."

"You've seen him?" Olivia asked, interested.

"I… I adopted him," Alex said, quietly.

Olivia looked at her blankly, the words not registering. "You… adopted him?" she repeated.

"Well, Sarah Reyes adopted her stepson, Miguel," Alex sighed. "I couldn't let him get mixed up in foster care, Olivia. Not after what he'd done for me. You know even better than I do the odds of his having a decent life once he entered the system. Add to that the trauma of being present at his parents' murder, having to testify at their murderer's trial…"

"Hey, Baby," Olivia said, giving Alex's arm a small squeeze. "You don't have to tell me all the reasons why. I understand. I mean, I'm just… wow. It's big."

"It is big," Alex acknowledged, burrowing into Olivia's neck, kissing the hollow of her throat softly. "It's been wonderful having someone around… the worst part last time was not having anyone there who knew who I really was."

"I'm sure it was much better for him, having you there," Olivia whispered, holding Alex close to her. "You were so wonderful with him during the trial. I remember watching the two of you, thinking…"

"Thinking what?" Alex asked, happy that Olivia seemed okay with this bombshell.

"Thinking, you know, Alex has always been so great with kids…"

"I have not."

"You are."

"Am not," Alex laughed softly. "I never thought I had a maternal bone in my body, Liv, honestly. You're the one who's amazing with kids. Me? I was clueless. But we kind of figured it out. He's a smart kid – he's polite, he's a good student, he enjoys learning."

"You're doing a good job with him," Olivia said, sounding pleased.

"It's hard taking care of someone else, but it's been a joy," Alex confided.

"Where is he now?"

"Staying with a friend," Alex answered. "He's made friends with a really sweet little girl. Her father's a cop. He's staying with them this weekend, and then I'll have to go back and figure out what to do next."

"Wait," Olivia's grip on Alex's arm loosened. "You're only here for the weekend?"

Alex breathed deeply. She hadn't meant to burden Olivia with this news so soon, but it was impossible to tell her about Antonio without acknowledging that she couldn't just stay in New York. "Baby, I'm back for good," she promised, turning her blue eyes to Olivia's. "Don't worry about that. And I don't want to leave you for a second, not while you're hurt." She sniffed, afraid she would start to cry.

"When are you coming back?" Olivia asked, no longer afraid to appear vulnerable. Alex cherished the fact that Olivia was willing to be so openly needy in front of her.

"Probably going to be spending my weekends out here for a while," Alex said. "Antonio has another two months in the semester, and…"

"No."

"I'm sorry?" Alex asked, surprised by Olivia's immediate rebuke.

"I said no, Alex," Olivia stated firmly. "That's not acceptable. I've waited three years. I don't want to be without you any longer."

"I don't want to be apart any more than you do, Liv," Alex pointed out. She was thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe when you're strong enough to fly, you can come stay with me in Virginia."

Olivia managed a throaty laugh. "Are you serious?"

"It's not so bad," Alex promised. "The house is small, but there's plenty of room for the three of us… maybe Antonio's aunts – they're a lesbian couple, Liv – maybe they'll come stay for a while and help him finish out the semester so I can concentrate on getting you better."

"I can't just leave New York."

"I did. Twice." Alex said, her tone brooking no argument.

"You really want me to come with you?"

"Of course."

"You gonna nurse me back to health?" Olivia teased, a small grin forming on her lips.

"You're damned right," Alex promised, kissing her lips sweetly.

"And when he's done with school, we come back to New York?"

"Of course. It'll be several weeks before you can think about going back to work, anyway," Alex pointed out.

Olivia nodded. Perhaps it was the drugs, but Alex's plan actually sounded more than workable. She looked forward to the thought of playing house with Alex, and was perfectly aware that her own small one-bedroom apartment was hardly big enough for the two of them – it certainly wouldn't accommodate Alex and a teenage boy.

"Is… is Antonio going to live with you when you find a new place out here?" Olivia asked, unsure herself what she wanted the answer to be.

"I don't know," Alex sighed. "In a way, it would be devastating to lose him – I've gotten so used to him. He's starting to feel like an actual son to me." She paused. "He might want to live with his family, and I wouldn't blame him for that. I know that I am committed to him – making sure he has everything he wants, goes to the best school he can, has the best of everything. And if he chooses to go back to his blood family, I'll always have a room for him."

Olivia smiled. "You're good at this mother thing, aren't you, Al?"

Alex snuggled closer to Olivia. "I'm figuring it out as I go along, like everyone else."

"Think you want more kids in your life?" Olivia asked cautiously, for the second time, unsure what she wanted to hear.

"God,"Alex groaned. "No more big decisions. Not today, okay?"

"Deal," Olivia laughed.

"I think I really just want you all to myself for a while," Alex confessed, slipping a hand under the hospital gown and fondling Olivia's breast.

"Ask and you shall receive," Olivia smiled, opening her mouth to receive Alex's insistent tongue.

**-46-**

**Friday, 2:45 p.m.**

Later that afternoon, the tiny hospital room was so full that Olivia's visitors began taking shifts standing in the hall to give everyone inside some breathing room. Munch and Fin had stopped by at eleven, and Olivia had voiced her utter disappointment that they had not even attempted to sneak a donut in for her.

"You can't eat solid food yet, Liv," Fin had pointed out.

"Donuts aren't really 'solid food,' though," she had argued.

"No donuts for you," Alex chimed in, a serious expression on her face. "You heard Dr. Bettencourt say it might be a few days before you can digest anything."

"Yeah," Munch quipped. "We don't want you tossing your donuts all over us, thank you very much."

Olivia rolled her eyes and raised her eyebrow as she looked at Alex. "_You_ weren't so concerned about following the doctor's advice earlier this m-"

"Hey," Alex cut her off, grinning. The room's other occupants glanced around nervously for a second, and then allowed themselves to laugh. Olivia had broken the ice, becoming the first one to make a joke about her relationship with Alex. This was the sign they needed to know that it was okay to do the same.

Olivia relaxed into the bed, trying not to wince when the pain got too much. Alex sat on the corner of the bed, a hand resting on Olivia's leg. It was sweet watching Alex talk to Kathy Stabler, as it occurred to Olivia that despite being in love with partners, the women had never met. Now, they were talking like old friends.

It further warmed Olivia's heart to watch as everyone else welcomed Alex home. Each time a new person hugged her, told her she looked as beautiful as ever, asked about her plans, it further confirmed that this had not been a dream, that Alex was really back. Although she couldn't eat with them, Olivia found great comfort in watching the people she cared about most gathered in one room, eating the sandwiches Kathy had brought from home.

Casey had stopped by and done a double-take when she noticed the way Alex's hand stroked Olivia's leg, the way Olivia rubbed the small of Alex's back. A dawn of realization crossed the redhead's face – so _this_ was why Olivia had always been so hard on her. It had never had anything to do with her at all – her crime was not being Alex.

Elliot and Kathy stayed longer than anyone else, and Alex left her side only to follow the attending physicians into the hallway and badger them with questions about Olivia's surgery, outlook, and their best advice as to what she could and could not do over the next several days. One time she had returned to the room, and while Elliot and Kathy were engrossed in the news, had turned her head toward Olivia and mouthed, "No more sex."

Olivia had given her a look of horror, and Alex had playfully shoved her before lifting Olivia's hand to her mouth for a quick kiss. Sensing that the couple needed to be alone, Kathy had been the first to suggest that she and Elliot take off and return later that night for dinner.

"Bring me some of your spicy chili for dinner, will you, Kath?" Olivia had requested, trying to sound serious.

"Give me a break," Kathy groaned. "Even if you _could_ eat my spicy chili right now, I'm not going to do that to poor Alex. She has to sleep with you."

They had laughed, and goodbye kisses had gone all around with plans to reconvene in a few hours.

"Hey, you," Alex whispered once they were alone, propping herself on the cot next to Olivia.

"Hey, Sweetheart."

"Want to take a nap?"

"No. But apparently my permitted activities are restricted right now."

"Mmmhmm."

"Who says, anyway?"

"One of the nurses," Alex giggled. "I think once she got over the shock that _I_ was asking when you'd be able to… you know… I think then she was just revolted that you nearly died from a gunshot wound and here I am, this little hussy who only cares about when I'm gonna get some."

Olivia laughed along with her. "The idea of you as a sex-starved hussy is kinda turnin' me on," she admitted.

"Well, the sex-starved part is right," Alex acknowledged. "It's been _three years._"

"Tell me about it," Olivia groaned.

"I'm really glad we bent the rules this morning," Alex smiled.

"Me too. I think I want you to look at that rule a little more carefully, Counselor. Find all the loopholes you can, will you?"

"I think it's open to creative interpretation," Alex teased.

"Creative, huh?" Olivia smiled. "That sounds fun. I'm already looking forward to our two months in Virginia…"

"Mmmm," Alex murmured, sitting up so she could lean into Olivia and kiss her deeply. Finally, she broke away. "I need to call Antonio," she announced. "I haven't checked in with him since this morning."

"OK," Olivia agreed, watching with a smile as Alex stood on the opposite side of the room and called him. There was something so sweet – so maternal – in the expressions that crossed Alex's face while she spoke to the boy. Olivia found herself looking forward to seeing them interact in person.

Finally, Alex returned. "Are you feeling well enough to go upstairs now?" she asked Olivia.

"Upstairs?"

"Mmmhmm. You're going to be here another few days, and I hate the thought of being in this cramped little room. I arranged for you to get one of the private suites they added a few years ago."

"Alex, those suites cost a fortune," Olivia responded, confused. "My insurance isn't going to cover that."

Alex waved dismissively. "Don't worry; I'm taking care of it."

"Alex," Olivia said, a small edge in her tone. "We didn't even talk about this…"

"It didn't occur to me that you wouldn't prefer a nicer room."

"Or that I might not want you to pay for it?" Olivia asked, not wanting to fight, but feeling overwhelmed that the decision had been made without her input.

"Baby," Alex said softly, kneeling beside the bed and taking Olivia's hand into hers. "First, I want to make you more comfortable. You're going to receive more attention up there; and I'm actually going to be able to take a shower." She grinned, hoping a little humor would dissolve the mounting tension in the room. "Come on… you don't want me to turn into the world's stinkiest girlfriend, do you? You want me fresh and clean…"

Olivia fought to keep the pout on her face, but it was hard with Alex breathing in her ear, her mouth so close that her lips brushed Olivia's skin as she whispered, "…and enough room for me to actually lie beside you tonight instead of scrunched up in a little ball at the end of the bed…"

"So this is really about _your_ comfort?" Olivia teased.

"Well, I don't _enjoy_ forgoing showers and sleeping in a one foot by two foot patch of hospital bed…"

"You win, Alex," Olivia allowed. "Honey, I really appreciate the way you want to take care of me."

"Of course I do," Alex said, moving her hand across Olivia's shoulders, massaging them gently. "Please promise me you'll never do anything this stupid again."

"Bringing you home was worth a stupid kidney," Olivia deadpanned, dismissing Alex's concerns. "I mean, I have another one."

"Olivia…" Alex wasn't going to let it go.

"I promise," Olivia finally relented. "Now, come here and show me how you plan to creatively get around that ban…"

"You're impossible," Alex smiled, amazed that Olivia could even think about sex after all she had been through. But by the time she had hung the privacy sign on the door and returned to Olivia's bedside, the detective was fast asleep.

Glad to see that Olivia was getting needed rest, Alex pulled out her cellular phone and dialed Jack Hammond's number. There was plenty of other business she had to conduct while in New York, and the first order of business was contacting her cousin, Drake, who managed the majority of the family's financial resources. It was time to go about having her assets transferred back into her own name.


	25. Chapter 25

**-47-**

**Bellevue Hospital**

**Friday, 7:30 p.m.**

Olivia was asleep when Elliot and Kathy arrived, comfortably nestled into a plush mattress in a bed at least three times larger than the one she had occupied hours before. She and Alex had made the move a couple of hours earlier, and Olivia had not been able to stay awake to enjoy it for long. Alex took advantage of Olivia's exhaustion by showering in the suite's bathroom and then enjoyed an hour at Olivia's side before she heard a knock on the door.

"Hey," she said in a low tone, gesturing to Olivia's sleeping form as the two visitors ducked in quietly.

"Pretty swank place you've got here, Alex," Elliot smiled.

"It beats downstairs," she said, sheepishly.

"I should check in sometime," Kathy quipped. "What's that trendy new disease everyone's getting? 'Exhaustion.'"

Alex rolled her eyes. "That's Celebrity for 'overdose.'"

Elliot smirked. "How's Sleeping Beauty?" he asked. His tone was teasing, but Alex sensed a very real current of concern beneath his words.

"She's only been out for about an hour and a half," Alex responded, looking at Olivia's sleeping form. "I'm glad she's finally getting rest. The doctors told me that pushing too hard these next couple of days is a bad idea." She was immediately wracked with guilt for having encouraged Olivia to make love to her that morning.

"Any idea when she'll be ready to go?"

'Two to seven days is typical on a nephrectomy," Alex muttered. "I told Dr. Bettencourt that I needed something a little more specific. The fact that there was a gunshot wound and a long surgery is a complicating factor." She sighed in summation. "Depending on how she does tonight, there's a chance she'll be able to check out late Sunday or first thing Monday."

"That's when you're flying back, isn't it?" Kathy asked. As Alex nodded, Kathy placed three paper plates down on a card table and produced two large Tupperware containers from which she began dispensing grilled chicken and salad. She gestured to the dinner. "Elliot thought we should taunt her with chili, but I didn't have the heart."

"Jerk," Alex teased a smiling Elliot.

"It's gonna be hard saying goodbye, huh?" Elliot mused, nodding his head toward Olivia.

"Well, I'm hoping I won't have to." A small smile crossed Alex's face.

"Huh?" He looked puzzled.

"I've asked Olivia to come back to Virginia with me," Alex informed them. "It would just be for a few weeks – she needs to recover, and I need to finish up some things there before I come home."

"How are you going to know whether to get her a ticket?" Kathy, ever the pragmatist, wondered aloud.

Alex quickly responded that she had already phoned her cousin and arranged a ticket for Olivia just in case she was able to make the flight. Elliot shot Kathy a look. _Told you Cabot had money. _

Elliot was thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "That's not a bad idea, Alex, your taking Liv out for a couple of weeks in the country to recuperate. How does she feel about it?"

"She was a little surprised at first," Alex admitted, stealing a glance at the still-sleeping detective. "But I think she's getting a little excited about it."

He shook his head in bemusement. "So, you two are just skipping the whole dating thing and going straight to living together?"

Alex smirked. "We've had five years stolen from us," she pointed out. "Can you blame us for wanting to skip right to the good stuff?"

The visitors said nothing in response to her question, but Alex saw slight looks of reservation cross their faces. They felt something, she was sure – they were simply too polite to give voice to whatever it was. It was Kathy who finally spoke, launching into a subject change. "Alex, do you plan to return to the DA's office when you're back?"

Elliot chuckled. "Of course she does," he said. "It's who she is. I bet you're absolutely spoiling for a good fight, huh, Alex?"

Alex was quiet a moment. She had given considerable thought to this question over the last few years. At first, her returning to a position as an ADA had seemed as inevitable to her as it was to Elliot right now. The more she had considered it, though, she recognized that the issue was far from decided. "I couldn't come back to Special Victims," she said quietly.

Elliot looked at her, waiting for the rest of the explanation.

"Liv and I aren't really planning to keep our relationship top secret," Alex explained. "We haven't waited five years to be together only to live in the closet." She sipped from the Diet Coke Kathy had brought. "Obviously, it would present an enormous conflict of interest if I was involved with one of my detectives. I could never call Olivia as a witness without raising the suspicion that she was simply giving me what I need for a win. The two of you could never conduct a search on a warrant I prepare without giving the defense a wonderful reason to have any evidence collected thrown out." She frowned. "It's out of the question that Olivia and I could ever go back to working together."

Elliot nodded. "It makes sense. Sucks."

"It does," Alex agreed with a wan smile. She had loved being the ADA assigned to Special Victims, but she knew that it was far more important to her to be a part of Olivia's life and not have to hide it. "That's not the only reason, obviously. It looks to me as though Casey's doing a good job."

Elliot smiled. "We're kinda hard on her," he admitted.

"I can't imagine you being hard on anyone," Alex teased. "I miss prosecuting. I'll see what's out there. Maybe there's a place for me. If not, there are options."

"I'm sure there are," Elliot assured her. "You're a brilliant attorney. Just don't let me see you switching to the other team."

"Criminal defense?" Alex frowned.

"It happens to many a former prosecutor," Elliot pointed out.

Alex chuckled. "I think I can resist the temptations," she demurred. "Hey, speaking of… what time is it?"

"Almost eight."

Alex eyeballed the large television mounted against the wall. "Think it'll wake Olivia up if we…"

"I'm up," a groggy voice chimed in from the bed. Three heads turned toward Olivia, who was yawning and trying to sit up.

"Hey, Tough Stuff, take it easy," Alex cautioned, leaving her chair and moving to sit on the edge of Olivia's bed.

Olivia smiled at Alex sweetly as the younger woman leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead. "Thanks for coming," she addressed Elliot and Kathy.

"Sure thing, Champ," Elliot said, pulling up a chair close to her bedside. His wife did the same. "Ready to go chase the bad guys?"

Olivia grinned. "Yeah, absolutely. Kath, bring me my shoes!"

"_Easy_, Tiger," Alex said, laughing.

"How long before I go back to work?" Olivia asked Alex. She knew that Alex had been talking to the doctors since her arrival, getting all of the necessary information and probably pestering them with plenty of unnecessary questions as well. She enjoyed being the recipient of Alex's protective display.

"The doctor said you'll be ready for light activity in a couple of weeks," Alex informed her, "and he encourages you to start exercising when you're able. The strenuous stuff – that will take six to eight weeks." Alex was fully aware that Olivia was already trying to determine how much sex she and Alex could get away with having before the activity was considered 'strenuous.' "The important thing is keeping your blood pressure under control," she pointed out, communicating through her expression that she was thinking about the exact same thing.

"How are you feeling, Liv?" Kathy asked, gesturing to the detective's gauze-covered abdomen.

"I'm okay," Olivia lied.

Alex shot her a look.

"It hurts, okay?" she admitted ruefully. "Satisfied?"

"Here," Alex stood and pressed a button on the machine delivering Olivia's nitro drip. "It's been more than four hours; you're entitled to a little bump."

"Mmm," Olivia shifted in bed, her eyes still heavy from sleep. "Thanks." She traced lazy circles on Alex's forearm with her fingers.

Elliot and Kathy flipped past several channels. Alex saw Debbie Lynne Mahoney's face flash by as the Stablers blitzed by CNN.

"Hey, Alex," Kathy teased. "Isn't she a former prosecutor? You could always get your own television show…"

"No thanks," Alex grinned, wondering whether she would lose much cachet if she admitted that she actually watched the stupid show for pleasure.

"C'mon," Elliot baited her. "You just sit there and pretend you know what's what, talk to Trevor Langan a few times a month…"

"Stop it, stop it right there," Alex held up her hand, groaning. The room erupted in a round of laughter. For a few minutes, they quietly watched the latest updates on the runaway bride case. When Elliot moved to change the channel, Alex put a hand up. "Hey," she said bravely. "I was kind of watching that."

Olivia gasped, a huge smile crossing her face. Who would have guessed that Alex Cabot had a soft spot for this crap? "C'mere," she said, softly, pulling Alex closely to her, kissing the other woman's forehead as they snuggled and watched lousy television. Elliot and Kathy bid them goodnight several minutes later, with a promise to call in the morning.

**-48-**

**Saturday, 3:00 a.m.**

Olivia shifted, her eyes falling on the neon glow of the radio alarm clock on the bedside table. She was vaguely aware of was that Alex's body was snuggled against her, her silky long hair covering Olivia's arm, her lips lightly resting on Olivia's chest. Smiling softly to herself, Olivia tenderly squeezed her lover, affirming for herself that she was actually holding Alex, not just dreaming her as she had so often done.

Alex responded to the small gesture even in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible and unconsciously moving her fingers against Olivia's side, stroking the wrapped torso lightly.

Olivia heard herself giggle before it registered that Alex's sleepy touches were ticking her ribcage. "Hey, stoppit," she finally managed, shoving Alex's hand away just hard enough to wake her up.

"What?" Alex responded groggily, rubbing her eyes.

"You were tickling me!" Olivia accused.

"I was fast asleep!" Alex offered a defense.

"Doesn't matter," Olivia argued, playfully. "Quit it!"

"Okay, okay," Alex laughed. She looked into Olivia's eyes, locking blue eyes onto brown. "I'll try not to fall asleep and tickle you again."

"There are other ways you can touch me in your sleep that are just fine," Olivia pointed out suggestively.

"No," Alex said, her voice sounding far too serious. "No strenuous activity for-"

"For six weeks," Olivia parroted with an eye roll. "Do you really think you're going to keep me away from you for another six weeks?"

Alex smirked. "No," she confessed. "But I don't think we need to tempt fate. We already got away with it once."

"We can press our luck," Olivia said, a devilish glint in her eye.

"I see you eyeing that Nitro drip," Alex shot back, stretching across the bed to press the button and deliver another round of painkillers to Olivia. "You're not fooling me, Detective."

"Aw, damn," Olivia muttered, still smiling as she lowered her head into the pillows. "I'm a very quick healer, as it turns out."

"Not this quick. You were shot in the kidney two days ago."

"Two and a half," Olivia pressed. "You're not leaving New York without me, Alexandra."

Alex smiled. She had always loved the way her full name sounded as it fell from the detective's lips. "I don't plan to," she said softly. "I've already booked your ticket on my flight."

Olivia nodded. "I heard you tell Elliot."

"How much of the conversation did you overhear?"

"I was in and out," Olivia confessed. "I heard you talking about not being able to come back to SVU."

"It's not that I don't want to. I was so in my element working with your squad."

"You were perfect," Olivia acknowledged. "I hate that being with me will make it impossible for you to return – but I understand. You're right. I loved working with you, but I'd rather have this."

Alex leaned in toward Olivia and kissed her soulfully, covering the brunette's full lips with her own. Olivia closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the beautiful sensation of Alex's soft lips pressed against her own. She relaxed and felt Alex's tongue slip inside, tracing her lips and gently pushing into her mouth.

As Alex kissed her deeply, Olivia tenderly stroked her lover's perfect cheekbones and then softly massaged the warm skin at the base of Alex's neck. Alex moaned softly into Olivia's mouth, and then pulled away from her mouth to caress Olivia's neck with her tongue, licking at the soft flesh with long, powerful strokes.

"God, Alex," Olivia whispered, holding her lover close to her, moving her neck to give Alex more access. She still felt a dull ache in her abdomen, but that was fast becoming eclipsed by the growing need between her legs. She closed her hand around Alex's, mimicking the position Alex had held her in almost a day earlier, and pulled Alex toward her.

"Baby," Alex said softly, lifting her mouth and kissing Olivia's mouth softly.

"Alex, I need you," Olivia pleaded.

"I want to," Alex whispered into Olivia's ear. "I'm so scared, though. You big dummy, look what you've done."

Olivia chuckled. "When are you going to let it go? It worked out. You're safe. You're coming home to me…"

"And I can't have sex with you," Alex reminded her.

"What happened to the part about there being creative ways to bend that rule?" Olivia pressed.

"Let me look at you," Alex said, pretending to ignore her. She slipped her arm behind Olivia and removed her hospital gown, exposing Olivia's full, perfect breasts. _We're going to have a very difficult time with that rule, _she realized, dipping her head to wrap her mouth around Olivia's right breast, placing her open palm over the left, teasing Olivia's nipples with her tongue and fingers.

Olivia exhaled heavily, pulling Alex closer. Alex's knees rested on the bed on either side of Olivia's hips, allowing her to maneuver herself on top of Olivia and continue touching her. When she leaned forward to resume her tender sucking, she accidentally came into contact with Olivia's tender abdomen and heard the other woman gasp.

"God, Liv, I'm… I'm sorry," Alex apologized, suddenly wracked with guilt.

"It's okay, Sweetheart," Olivia assured her, trying to hold Alex in place even as she moved back to her place at Olivia's side. "We can do this. We just have to be careful…"

"I don't want to hurt you," Alex insisted, her eyes clouded with desire, worry, and hesitation. "We have plenty of time…" She squeezed Olivia's thighs and began to massage them.

"Mmmm…. Feels good," Olivia acknowledged as Alex rubbed the cramps out of her muscular legs.

"Just enjoy what we can have now," Alex whispered against Olivia's ear. "I promise we'll get there." She continued to rub Olivia's legs, working the muscles with long, delicate fingers, until Olivia fell into a deep and comfortable sleep, the woman she loved at her side.


	26. Chapter 26

**-49-**

**Hendrix Residence**

**Williamsburg, VA**

**Saturday, 4:00 p.m.**

Antonio and Angie had spent the morning playing their way through her impressive collection of Wii titles, and then taken advantage of the soccer net Nathan had put together in the backyard to run some drills before tryouts officially started. Although he would not have believed it a few short weeks ago, Antonio was actually looking forward to his athletic debut. The enthusiasm his hosts felt for the game was a bit contagious.

The children followed Nathan inside to get change for the movie matinee he had promised them when the telephone rang. "Hello," Nathan answered, grabbing the receiver from the wall mount.

"Nathan, it's Sarah," came the familiar voice. "Just checking in. Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, of course," Nathan smiled. He found it endearing that Sarah was calling at least twice a day to check on Miguel. "I hope that your friend's all right."

"She's going to be." He noted relief and exhaustion in her voice. "She's actually…I'm bringing her home with me for a few weeks. She'll need someone to watch after her while she's recovering."

"She doesn't have family or anyone there?" he asked, realizing after he spoke that it had been kind of a nosy question. "I'm sorry," he excused himself. "I think it's great that she's coming to visit you."

Sarah was quiet for a moment, as though she was having a difficult time trying to decide what to say next. Finally, she thanked him again and asked to speak to Miguel.

"Hey," his voice came through the line, a bit roughly. She could tell that he was still playing at indignant.

"Still mad at me, huh?" she coaxed, to no reply. "Look, I have a feeling you're not going to be mad at me in about twenty seconds."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, interested. "Why's that?"

"I called your Aunt Carla this morning," she said, happily. "She and your Aunt Jeannie are going to come spend a week with us."

"No way," he said, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his face. Nathan and Angie turned, wondering what Sarah had just told her son to elicit such an excited response. "Seriously?"

"They're so excited to be seeing you, Honey," she continued. "But we all agreed it's better for you to finish the semester at your school. It's up to you what you tell anyone at this point, but it might be a little easier if you wait until I'm home so we can talk to the Hendrixes together. Okay?"

"Okay," he said, his spirits suddenly much higher than they had been. "When are they coming?"

"This weekend. I'm bringing Olivia with me on Monday."

"Wow. She okay?"

In New York, Alex was sitting in an armchair, watching as Olivia watched the news from the comfort of the much nicer bed. "She's a fighter," Alex said proudly. "But it's going to be a long recovery. You ready to help out with that?"

"Sure. How long are Carla and Jeannie staying?"

"Just a few days. They have work. But they'll be back a few times to start taking your things with them," Alex promised. "We have a lot of decisions to make, and I think it's better if everyone's involved, don't you?"

"Yeah," he agreed, grateful that she had always treated him with enough respect to not make major decisions without his input. That was what had bothered him so much about her unilateral choice to spend the weekend in New York without him. "Have you been at the hospital since Thursday?"

"Yep. Haven't even been outside. We're going to Liv's apartment on Monday so we can pack some of her things. She'll be with us until you finish school."

"What about your family?" he asked, making sure that Nathan and Angie were engrossed in conversation and not listening to him.

"Maybe I'll have some visitors. Maybe that will have to wait until we've come back," she mused. "Right now I need to concentrate on getting Olivia healthy."

"Is she there?"

"Yes." A thought occurred to Alex. "Would you like to say hello?"

"Sure," he said, amiably.

Antonio shifted nervously as he heard the phone being passed from Alex to someone else. He had always felt awkward whenever he felt like he was supposed to make conversation with someone who he barely knew. In this case, the virtual stranger was someone who had only met him once, during the most difficult phase of life he'd even gone through, and the same someone who, in just a few days, was going to come live with him and in all likelihood replace him as the center of Alex's world.

"Hey, Antonio," a soft voice came on the line. "This is Olivia."

**-50-**

**Bellevue Hospital**

**Saturday, 4:20 p.m.**

"Hi, Detective Benson," he said quietly, not afraid to use her real name. After all, Alex had told Nathan she was going to visit a police officer friend. "Are you feeling okay?"

Olivia smiled. His voice was much deeper than it had been, he was clearly growing up. "I don't know what you've been hearing, but I've never been better," she proclaimed. Antonio heard Alex groaning in the background, and Olivia laughed softly. "So, you okay with me coming to stay for a little while?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think it's great," he said, honestly."I mean, I wish I was going there instead, but…"

"The school thing," she finished for him.

"Something about that," he agreed.

"I'm gonna be stuck on the couch most of the time with nothing to do, so you know… feel free to draft me for homework help duty, okay?"

"You got it," he smiled, feeling a little better about the situation.

"It was good to say hi to you, but I've gotta hang up so they can give me a bath. Apparently I smell kind of funky."

He laughed. "I'm sure you're okay. Say bye to my mom, okay?"

Olivia was quiet a minute. In New York, her eyes went wide open as she heard him refer to Alex as his mom. She didn't know whether this was his usual term for her, or whether he was covering his tracks in front of Nathan and Angie. "I will," she promised, hanging up the phone. She turned to Alex. "Bye, Mom," she said, smirking.

Alex grinned. "He doesn't call me that all the time," she explained, seemingly reading Olivia's mind.

"But you _like it_," Olivia noticed

"I don't mind it," Alex admitted.

"I'm going to see a completely different side of you in Virginia, aren't I?" Olivia predicted, gazing at Alex tenderly as the other woman stretched.

"I think you just might," Alex mused. "But I hope it doesn't change anything between us."

"Why would it?" Olivia asked, propping herself on a pillow. She was not used to spending days and days in bed, and although she knew it might be another 36 hours before she could leave, she was growing very antsy.

Alex relaxed back into a standing pose and stood by a window, looking out into the city that she had called home for so many years. "In a lot of ways, I'm the same person you knew before I left," she said carefully. "But there's a lot that's changed. Things that aren't so obvious on the surface."

"I know, Sweetheart," Olivia promised. "People change over five years anyway. And you've been forced to live another person's life. I can't imagine what it's been like for you, but I want to know. I want you to tell me."

Alex was quiet for a couple of moments, and then turned her glacier-blue gaze back toward Olivia. "Well, I'm taking care of a pre-adolescent boy, for starters," she said, sitting down on the bed and resting her hand on Olivia's neck, playing with her soft, thick hair. "I'm an archivist at the Jamestown Museum."

"Jamestown? So… Indians and Settlers and stuff?" Olivia said, smiling. A mischievous twinkle appeared in her eyes.

"Exactly," Alex smiled. "It's kind of a cool place, really – a lot of artifacts. The children always enjoy touring the tepees."

"Want to take me into one of the tepees sometime?" Olivia teased.

"You never stop," Alex smiled, shaking her head.

"Sorry," Olivia said, still grinning. "Tell me. I want to hear the rest."

"I work my ass off for $40,000 a year," Alex shared. "When I lived in New York, Liv, there were three separate occasions when my dry cleaner had to call me and tell me I'd forgotten my paycheck in a pocket of one of the jackets I dropped off to be laundered." She sighed. "Trust me, those days are gone."

Olivia nodded. Like everyone, she had known Alex came from a family of means – that much had been obvious from Alex's designer clothes, refined taste, and Central Park-adjacent penthouse. She had never seen Alex's apartment, but had often imagined that it was full of expensive furniture and original art.

"It's tough living on a working-class paycheck," Olivia acknowledged.

"It was… a shock to my system, certainly," Alex admitted. "What I used to spend on dinner and a couple of glasses of wine… it'll keep the lights turned on for a month. I can buy Antonio school clothes for a semester with what I used to spend on a pair of shoes."

Olivia waited to see where Alex was going.

"It's not just the money I lost," she said, not looking directly at Olivia anymore. "I lost my name – getting beyond literally losing my identity, I lost all of the things that my name meant. The privilege and connections that I didn't even realize I took for granted until they weren't there anymore."

Olivia nodded. She had never had the money, connections or privileges to lose in the first place, but her heart went out to Alex for having had to literally start over at the beginning after having lived her entire life with an enormous head start.

"I've been living like another person for so long," Alex concluded. "It might take me a while to learn how to be me again."

"I'll help you," Olivia said, squeezing Alex's hand.

"Maybe I should take a little while before going back to work," Alex said slowly. "We… I mean…" She swallowed. She had assumed that Olivia would want to move in together, but what if she was wrong? What if Olivia wanted to take things slow, actually date for a while before jumping into that sort of commitment? "I need to find a place to live," she concluded.

"Sweetheart, stay with me," Olivia offered.

"Do you have room?" Alex asked, sure the answer was 'no.'

"I have a tiny one-bedroom in the Village," Olivia answered. "It's not exactly a penthouse on Fifth Avenue, but we'd be okay."

Alex smiled. "And suppose Antonio wants to stay with me?"

Olivia nodded, understanding. "No, it's not big enough." She suddenly felt very inadequate.

"Baby, don't…" Alex could see the look of embarrassment cross Olivia's face. "You didn't get that place thinking about one day having a wife and child there."

_Wife_. Olivia wondered if her face registered the delicious shock that passed through her as the word slipped so easily off Alex's tongue. Alex, who didn't seem to have noticed, was still talking about space and rooms. "…so I was thinking that maybe we could look for a bigger place. Something we could share. Something with room for Antonio if he wants to stay there, someplace we can grow into…" Alex looked back to Olivia, slightly flushed. "Anyway, I guess this is something we can talk about when we get back to Virginia."

_She's talking about having a family. With me. _Olivia just lay there, smiling. "Of course, Alex. I'd love to find a place together."

"Really?" Alex smiled. "Thank God. Because if you didn't want to, wow," she lay back against the pillow and laughed, kissing Olivia's forehead. "I was about to feel like a complete idiot."

"There's no need," Olivia assured her. "I can't imagine ever going to bed without you, waking up and not seeing your beautiful face. I don't want to miss anything else for the rest of my life."

Alex smiled. "It's going to be fun finding a place with you, decorating…"

"I can't afford a penthouse by the Park," Olivia cautioned. "I mean, I know we'll need something bigger than what I have, but… it's probably not going to be what you were used to."

"Olivia, it's okay. I can afford a nice place – don't worry about it. The assets are already being moved back into my name." She made an assuring face.

"Well, I'd like to at least be able to pay half of the expenses." Olivia reasoned.

"You don't have to-"

"Yes, Alex, I do."

"Why?"

"Why not?" Olivia frowned. "It's about fairness, it's about us being equal partners…"

"I'll provide the money, you provide the muscle," Alex teased, rubbing Olivia's tricep suggestively.

"What kind of place were you thinking about?"

"A place where I can make sure that we're all happy and comfortable. What were _you_ thinking about?"

"I don't know. A cozy little two-bedroom apartment in the city, maybe a little house in Queens like Elliot's?" Olivia shrugged. It had never really mattered to her where she and Alex wound up living, as long as they were together. "It might be kinda nice to have a yard."

Alex frowned. This couldn't be further from what she'd envisioned. What was wrong with another penthouse near the Park? There would be plenty of room, they would be close to the City, and Antonio would be near the best schools in New York. "Why don't we look around Fifth or Park?" Alex said, tentatively. She knew most women would delight in the idea of someone offering to buy them an eight-figure brownstone, but Olivia Benson was not most women. "We can look in… Queens… too," she said when Olivia opened her mouth to protest. "If we make a decision as a couple that we'd be happier in the suburbs, then that's what we'll do," she put forth, knowing there was no way in hell she'd ever go for that. "But if we decide we'll be happier in a beautiful place in Manhattan… then do you promise not to hold the price tag against it?"

Olivia sighed. "Let's talk about this later, okay?" she asked, warily, afraid this wasn't going to be the last time they did not see eye-to-eye about money.

"Sure," Alex said, the same fear nagging at the back of her mind as she went to set up the wash rags and basin to give Olivia a bath.

"When's the nurse coming to take out the catheter?" Olivia asked as Alex moved the warm rags over her body.

"About an hour," Alex smiled. "Then you can actually get out of bed, try to pee."

"It'll be the first time I've gotten out of bed in three days."

"Exciting!"

"I'll take what I can get," Olivia smiled. "Today I can pee on my own, maybe in a few days I can do all sorts of things."

Alex chuckled, kissing Olivia sweetly in between bathing her left and right arms. "Don't resent me because I have money," she whispered, the words as much a request as an instruction. "Don't resist me when I want to take care of you," she added, her hot breath filling Olivia's ear.

"Give me time to get used to it, okay?" Olivia asked, her voice breaking. "I've never really had the option of living in a $12 million penthouse before. It's a little overwhelming…"

"I'll be right here waiting for you," Alex assured her, her blue eyes locked on Olivia's. "You don't need to worry about anything except getting healthy."

"I'm working on it…" Olivia promised as sleep overtook her once again.


	27. Chapter 27

**-51-**

**Olivia Benson's Apartment**

**New York City**

**Monday, 8:00 a.m.**

Half an hour after Olivia had checked out of the hospital (despite the strong encouragement of her doctors that she give it another day), she was with Alex in the backseat of a taxi as it rolled to a stop in front of her aging apartment building.

"Twenty-six seventy-one," the cabbie informed his fares.

Olivia looked for her handbag and realized it was on the floor between her feet. She started to reach down, and was stopped when Alex extended an arm across her, leaning forward with two folded twenties. "Thank you," she told the driver. "No change."

"Thanks," the driver smiled, happy with the tip.

"Just give me a hand?" Alex asked him, gesturing to Olivia, who was scowling. Alex missed the irritated look Olivia shot in her direction as she exited the cab and walked around to the other side to help Olivia out of the car.

After two failed attempts to get to her feet on her own, Olivia finally consented to being lifted into the wheelchair the hospital had issued her that morning.

Once the cab rolled away, Olivia started to roll herself toward the building, making it no further than five or six feet at a time before the chair ground to a half, jerking her forward. Alex walked up behind the chair and tried to push the chair forward.

"I can do it," Olivia snapped.

"What's the matter?" Alex asked, perplexed. "Why won't you let me help you?"

"Because I can do it," Olivia said, not feeling the need to delve into any further explanation.

Alex frowned, watching Olivia struggle. "We have an hour before we have to leave for the airport," she pointed out. "I suppose we _could_ spend half of it out here on the sidewalk, letting you exhaust yourself, raise your blood pressure and risk serious injury in a ridiculous and completely unnecessary attempt to establish your independence. Or, we could simply agree that things are going to be a little more difficult than usual for you over the next several days, acknowledge that I want to help you with that, and let me push your stubborn ass up the ramp."

Olivia's mouth opened slightly. In the three and a half days since Alex had returned, this was by far the closest glimpse Olivia had gotten of the Cabot she had fallen for – and clashed with – years before. She knew from personal experience that there was absolutely no point in arguing with Alex while she stood there, arms folded firmly in front of her chest, wearing a focused expression for the benefit of anyone who might dare challenging her.

"Fine," Olivia muttered, trying to salvage what little dignity she could as Alex moved behind her and quickly guided her inside the building. She ducked her head, not wanting to encounter curiosity from the other half-dozen cops who lived in the building.

Once they were alone on the elevator, Alex bent forward to nuzzle Olivia's ear. "I know this is frustrating," she said softly. "You'll be able to do everything for yourself soon, Baby."

"I just feel gross," Olivia admitted.

"You had a bath this morning," Alex pointed out.

"You running a sponge across my arms and chest feels great, Sweetheart, but it does not good hygiene make," Olivia argued, sullenly. "I bet I smell like a dump truck."

"You don't."

"Like you would tell me."

"Oh, I'd tell you," Alex promised, smirking when the elevator stopped on Olivia's floor.

"I bet you would," Olivia chuckled. She gestured toward her door, and smiled when she saw Alex fumbling with the keys. "It's the big blue one," she said, helpfully. While Alex focused on unlocking the door, Olivia grimaced, bracing herself as a wave of pain shot through her midsection. Briefly, she wondered whether leaving today was really the wisest choice. Just as quickly, she reminded herself that there was no way in hell she was going to let Alex get on an airplane without her ever again.

Alex unlocked the door and walked into Olivia's apartment, surveying the small space with curiosity. The blinds were shut and the lights were all turned off – even in the middle of the day, it was dark. Magazines and unopened mail lay abandoned on random available surfaces, and jackets were slung over the backs of chairs. Alex got the distinct impression that the apartment was not so much a home as a place to crash, and she felt a twinge of sorrow.

"Hey," Olivia called from the hallway. "Don't forget me."

"I thought you were fully mobile on your own?" Alex teased, a half-smirk on her lips as she rolled Olivia in from the hallway. "So… this is your place."

"It is," Olivia acknowledged. "At least, it's where I can be found between shifts."

Alex nodded appreciatively. She noticed that while there were various mementos and knickknacks on shelves and behind frames, there were very few family photographs. One photo hanging in a frame on the wall just outside Olivia's bedroom caught her eye. "Your mother?" she asked, though there was no need. The image of Serena Benson with her arm thrown casually around Olivia's black-robed shoulders was obviously that of a very proud mother and a daughter about to enter life. The young Olivia was displaying a diploma to the photographer.

"Yep," Olivia said quietly, watching Alex stare intently at her mother's face. Her college graduation was one of her favorite memories – Serena had not had a drink the entire day. The day had been perfect, and recalling it now was bittersweet.

"You have her eyes," Alex smiled, looking away from the photo.

It occurred to Alex that she knew very little about Olivia's background or upbringing. She vaguely remembered that Olivia's mother was an English professor at Hudson, and that there was talk of a drinking problem, but these tidbits were culled from the grapevine, not directly from Olivia. Serena died not long after Alex had started at SVU, but she hadn't known Olivia long or well enough to go to the funeral. Instead, Alex had sent a simple bouquet with a card, and Olivia sent her a note of thanks. They had never discussed it further.

Olivia smiled. "You think so?"

"Yes," Alex said determinedly. "Big, expressive, beautiful eyes." She walked over to Olivia and, guiding the chair into Olivia's bedroom, continued her observations. "You're darker than your mother was, though. Did you get that gorgeous skin from your father?"

Olivia was silent, her mouth going slightly slack. _She doesn't know_, she realized. _How would she_? Olivia had not discussed the circumstances of her birth with many – only with Elliot and Cragen, and she had nearly disowned Elliot when he informed Munch without first obtaining her permission. It was, after all, her story to tell – and the occasion had never arisen for her to tell Alex. "Sweetheart," she said, quietly, not wanting to delve into that topic right then. "Let's pack and I'll tell you all about that later, okay?"

Alex rose an eyebrow, not sure how she'd managed to make Olivia feel uncomfortable, but feeling like she had put her foot in her mouth nonetheless. _I'm just trying to learn who you are_, she thought, trying to hide her confusion with a smile. "Okay," she said amiably. "Show me where you keep your suitcase."

Over the next half hour, Alex neatly folded and packed as many of Olivia's clothes as would fit into her medium-sized travel bag, a simple black number that looked as if it hadn't been broken out in years. "I don't get out of town all that much," Olivia said sheepishly.

"We'll change that soon," Alex promised.

"Oh yeah?" Olivia rose an eyebrow. "Travel plans, Counselor?"

"Maybe," Alex said, kneeling so that she was eye-level with Olivia and planting a wet kiss on her lips. "Drake mentioned something about a homecoming party at the family house when we're back for good." She stood and looked at Olivia. "The weather will be nicer – I'll finally get to see you in a bathing suit…"

"You've already seen me naked," Olivia smirked.

"Doesn't matter, it's still exciting," Alex said, smiling at her as they rolled down the hallway.

"So…" Olivia drawled, teasingly. "Where's 'the family house'?" She pronounced each word carefully, emphasizing how upper crust it sounded.

"Stop," Alex giggled, aware that she was being teased. "My parents' summer home is on the Vineyard, and the cousins had the good sense not to sell it when she died." Alex's voice grew a bit more fragile. Olivia knew it was still painful for her to talk about her mother's death, which had occurred not long after Alex had been sent away in Witness Protection. "Apparently, my cousins have been using it as a vacation house for the last couple of years. Drake has it the week we come back, and he wants to make a big fuss."

Olivia smiled. So the rumors about the house on Martha's Vineyard were apparently true. "Are you gonna kick 'em out now that it's all yours?" she inquired, not serious.

Alex shook her head as they stood outside, preparing to hail a cab. "No – I kind of like the idea of everyone heading there for the summers. You'll like my family, Liv – lots of cousins, lots of kids."

"Little Cabots running everywhere? Long limbs, blue eyes and blonde hair flying?"

"That's not far from the truth," Alex admitted, folding her hands on Olivia's chest and allowing Olivia to hold out her arm to bring the cab to a stop.


	28. Chapter 28

**-52-**

**Atlantic Airlines**

**Flight # 173**

**Monday, 1:30 p.m.**

By the time the captain's voice came through the intercom to announce that they were beginning their initial descent into Williamsburg, Olivia was as white as a sheet. Her general unease with flying had become evident as soon as the airplane started rolling away from the gate at LaGuardia, and she had held onto Alex's arm with white-knuckled trepidation for the first half-hour of the flight. Almost three hours later, she had released her grip, but still shown no sign of actual comfort.

"When's the last time you were on a flight, Baby?" Alex asked, warily.

"It's been a while. I'm okay," Olivia said, trying to project a cool and collected image as she locked her eyes onto Alex's.

"We're almost there," Alex tried to reassure her.

"I know," Olivia said, not without relief, as she glanced over Alex's shoulders and out the window. She was seated in the aisle in the front row of first class – it allowed her plenty of room to get out of and into the wheelchair. Mercifully, it was a short flight and she didn't need to move around very much.

"I'm sorry, but we're going to have to pick up Antonio before we go home," Alex said, leaning in close to Olivia as the airplane began to slowly lose altitude. "I tried to schedule as many hours with you in New York as I could, so I took the latest possible flight back. There won't be time to go by the house first."

"That's fine," Olivia nodded, feeling both anticipation and nervousness at seeing Antonio for the first time in three years. "I'm really looking forward to seeing him again, Alex." She knew that she was good with children generally, but couldn't remember a time when the stakes were as high. Hitting it off with this boy was a must. Based on everything Alex had told her about him during the flight, she could not imagine that they would not take an instant liking to one another.

"I think he's really looking forward to seeing you, too," Alex replied, answering Olivia's unasked question.

"Is he upset that he's not going back home immediately?"

"He was. Maybe he still is." Alex absent-mindedly folded the airline napkin in front of her into an impossibly small square. "I think it will help when his aunts come this weekend." She looked at Olivia with a mischievously arched eyebrow. "They may even spend an entire day with him _out of the house_…"

Olivia grinned, sensing the implications behind Alex's statement. "Why, Alexandra, what are you suggesting?" she asked, playing coy.

"I'm suggesting that certain activities might be a little strenuous right now, but by this weekend…" she shrugged innocently, smiling at the detective. "By this weekend, maybe you can handle it."

"You think all it takes is a first class ticket and a promise to change my bandages?" Olivia smirked.

"I think all it takes is coming back from the dead. Twice."

Olivia laughed, and held onto Alex's hand until the airplane had finished taxiing into the hangar.

**-53-**

**Thomas Jefferson Elementary**

**Williamsburg, Virginia**

**Monday, 3:30 p.m.**

Two hours later, Alex and Olivia were parked outside the large brick schoolhouse, watching students pour out the front and side doors in waves. "I hope he doesn't forget I'm picking him up today," Alex said, trying to identify Antonio in the crowd. Her anxiety was short-lived – two minutes later, he appeared and made a beeline for the car.

"This is a far cry from the SLK," Olivia teased, patting the dashboard.

"It's ugly," Alex said, simply.

"I don't know, I always worried about you in that car. You're not exactly the most careful driver on the road," Olivia said, hoping she wouldn't get in too much hot water for making the observation.

Alex rolled her eyes. "I haven't had an accident since I was nineteen. Why does everyone harp on my driving?"

"How many _almost_ accidents have you had, Alex?" Olivia asked, smirking.

"Part of New York's charm is that I won't have to do much driving," Alex allowed.

Olivia laughed, turning around to look at Antonio when he climbed into the backseat. "Hi," she said, her voice soft.

"Hey," he said, smiling at her and extending his hand.

Olivia tried not to show the strain she felt when she reached out and took it. She offered him a broad smile. "It's really good to see you again, Antonio," she said, genuinely. "You've grown up so much!"

It was true. He stood nearly a foot taller than the last time she had seen him, and his baby fat had given way to lean muscle. His voice had deepened. His eyes and dimples seemed the only features unmistakably identifying him as the boy she had met in New York three years ago.

He threw his duffel bag and backpack onto the seat beside him, and took the seat behind Alex. "I'm glad you're feeling better," he said, politely.

"Me too," Olivia agreed, trying to look at him, but finally giving up. "I can't wait to see your house," she said to both of them.

"You'll like it," Alex said, knowing it was true. "It has a _yard_," she pointed out, remembering the hypothetical house Olivia had described.

"Oooh," Olivia said, rubbing her hands together in exaggerated excitement.

"How long are you going to be in the wheelchair?" Antonio asked, gesturing to the trunk, where the chair lay folded.

"Probably another week," Olivia said. "Maybe not quite that long. Then I'll be on crutches for a little while." She was quiet a moment. "I figure I can start kicking soccer balls around with you in three weeks." Looking in the rearview mirror, she caught him smiling at her. This was going well so far.

"How was your weekend with Angie?" Alex asked him.

"We had fun," he said, vaguely. "Nate's really cool, you know?"

"Yeah, he's a nice guy," Alex said. "We should have them over this week. I'd like to thank him for having you this weekend."

Antonio shrugged. "It was fun."

"Did you remember to thank-"

"Yes. I left him a note on the counter this morning," he interrupted, smiling. He knew she'd be pleased that he thought of that.

"Good," she said, smiling at him. "That was thoughtful."

Olivia smiled, too – their rapport was charming, and it was fun getting a look at this side of Alex. She was obviously doing a great job – Antonio was comfortable with her, and his manners were firmly ingrained. She found herself looking forward to the next few weeks. Even if she was somewhat immobilized, there was no place she would rather be than with Alex, tucked away from the real world.

**-54-**

**Reyes Residence**

**Williamsburg, Virginia**

**Monday, 9:30 p.m.**

After dinner, Olivia, Alex, and Antonio settled in for Debbie Lynne and _Jeopardy!_. Alex had, predictably, defeated both Olivia and Antonio by calling out the vast majority of answers before the contestants had buzzed in. Two hours after the meal was finished, Olivia once again told Alex that the dinner had been delicious. "Alex, I really had no idea you could cook," she admitted. "You've surprised me!"

Alex grinned, full of pride as Antonio cleared their ice cream bowls from the table. Not wanting to take any chances of producing a less than stellar meal, she had prepared the salmon dish she had successfully debuted the previous week. "I've had some time to work on my usefulness around the house," she pointed out.

"I seem to remember a story about you setting your stove on-"

"I know, I was there at the time," Alex reminded her.

"What were you even making?" Olivia asked, a twinkle in her brown eyes.

"I was warming up leftovers."

"You weren't even cooking?" Olivia smiled, incredulous.

"I didn't… I mean… they don't tell you to take it out of the Styrofoam."

Olivia laughed happily, reaching out and placing her fingers on the back of Alex's neck. "I love you," she said softly.

Alex held her gaze for a long moment before responding. "I love you more than anything in the world," she finally said, touching Olivia's lips with her fingers. "Please be careful with yourself, okay?"

Olivia nodded. "I have you back now, Sweetheart…I won't be risking my life before I get to enjoy it for a while. I promise."

Alex nodded, leaning over to give Olivia a gentle kiss before she noticed that Antonio was standing awkwardly in the kitchen doorframe, unsure whether he was supposed to come into the living area and chance interrupting a private moment.

"It's okay, Honey," Alex called. "We were just…"

"I have a feeling you're going to feel like for a while," he said, amiably. "I'll go do my homework or something productive like that. Away. In my room. Behind closed doors. I'll go ahead and say goodnight."

"Thanks," Alex smiled, glad he was so willing to help Olivia ease into her stay at their house. Her prediction had been correct – it had taken Olivia two seconds to announce that she loved the house, and thirty more to comment on the fact that it still looked as if they hadn't been living there more than a week.

"Well, when you don't know if you're going to be staying somewhere six weeks or six years…" Alex started to explain. Olivia had nodded, indicating that there was no need to go into further detail.

With Antonio retreated into his room, Alex put out her hand to Olivia and glanced at the bedroom. "Are you exhausted?" she asked.

Taking Alex's hand and allowing herself to be rolled down the hallway toward Alex's room, Olivia answered, "Not at all…"

In the bedroom, Alex began to arrange all of Olivia's medical supplies on the dresser, lining up a small row of painkillers and antiseptic creams to treat the scar when the wraps could come off in two days.

"You've been through a lot of this before," Olivia realized, watching as Alex set everything up. "Who took care of you, Baby?"

Alex shrugged. "I kind of had to learn to do it myself. I went to a doctor in Wisconsin, did a little physical therapy. I couldn't tell them what happened."

"What did you tell them?"

"Abusive ex-boyfriend."

"God." Olivia groaned, trying to imagine how awful Witness Protection must have been for Alex. As if it weren't enough to be shot and nearly killed, but to have to give up her entire identity, to be prohibited from seeing a therapist, to be forced to lie about why she had been shot, to lie about everything.

"It's been tough," Alex acknowledged, her tone low. "Olivia, you know… I started to talk to you about this in New York." She sat down on the edge of her bed, helping Olivia to leave the chair and join her on the mattress. They lay down next to each other, Alex settling into a comfortable position in Olivia's arms. She spoke as Olivia held her. "I can't say that I've completely recovered from what happened."

"No, Sweetheart, I didn't expect that you had," Olivia assured her.

"I still haven't really talked about it… just in court that day." Alex sighed. "I don't know if I want to. I feel like I should just… get on with it. I'm usually able to be present and functional, but there are times…" Alex's blue eyes faltered, traveling Olivia's chiseled features before coming to rest on her brown eyes. "There are times when it almost feels like it's happening again. I'm in that moment. Something's exploding in my shoulder and I'm on the concrete and my back is crushed, and…"

Olivia closed her eyes, tightening her arms around Alex.

"…and the only thing that gets me through it is remembering you. Kneeling above me, holding me, talking to me…saving me…"

"I didn't…"

"You did. You saved me." Alex nodded, firm in her conviction. "And every time I've gotten overwhelmed or depressed or start to feel sorry for myself… you come and you save me again."

"Alex," Olivia said, tears pooling in her eyes.

"You do. You come to my door, you tell me it's over, that I can go home now." Alex blinked back her own tears. "I saw you come to me… and now it's real. I hate that you nearly got yourself killed along the way…" She ran a tender hand along Olivia's taped abdomen. "But you made it real. You saved me then and you're rescuing me now."

"I've replayed the night you were shot a thousand times in my mind," Olivia confessed. "I always see it coming – I get to you a little faster, I get in his way, I-"

Alex shook her head, and lifted a finger to Olivia's lips to stop her. "And then what? You take the bullet for me?" she frowned. "I would never have gotten past that. We both survived. You did everything exactly right – because we're both here right now."

And then, Olivia's lips were on hers, and she could feel the push and pull of Olivia's breath as their mouths opened to one another, their tongues meeting as their bodies pushed closer. A current of energy passed through her body at the touch of Olivia's soft, full lips against her own, and she felt her hips begin to rock involuntarily against Olivia.

Olivia pulled Alex closer, resting her hands on Alex's slowly moving hips. Her thumbs ventured below the waistband of Alex's jeans and pulled on the soft fabric of her shirt, eagerly putting her hands on soft, warm skin.

Alex's stomach clenched in delicious anticipation and she moaned quietly as Olivia's hands started roving the map of her skin. Pulling back, she quickly yanked her shirt over her head and tossed it, along with her bra, onto the floor, eager to feel Olivia's hands caressing her body. When her lover's long, smooth fingers pressed into her flesh, Alex groaned. Turning her head, she flicked her tongue against Olivia's skin, putting pressure on the long muscle running the length of Olivia's neck. She tangled her hands in the other woman's soft hair, surrendering herself to the sweet sensation of Olivia's hands making love to her breasts.

Their kissing became more intense, and Alex helped Olivia out of her own shirt, lowering her body so that her nipples lightly brushed those of her lover, causing them both to shudder at the contact.

"Are you…" Alex whispered.

"I'm fine," Olivia assured her, pressing her mouth back to Alex's.

"Is this…"

"I'm _fine_," Olivia repeated, smiling as she took Alex's swollen nipple into her mouth, her hands moving back to Alex's jeans. She was losing herself to the delirious luxury of making love with Alex, and felt no pain as she loosened the button and pulled down the zipper, never moving her mouth as Alex kicked out of her jeans and reached to liberate Olivia from her own loose sweatpants.

Her hand trembling from the sensory overload, Alex traced the length of Olivia's arm, traveling past her injured torso, past the light dusting of dark curls between her legs to the source of Olivia's heat.

"I need to touch you," Alex confessed as she slowly began to stroke. She slipped two fingers inside Olivia and began pumping them deeper into her, slowly and gently, paying careful attention to Olivia's breathing, not wanting to risk over-exertion.

Olivia's hips rose to meet Alex's fingers as they thrust inside of her, the beautiful feeling of being this close to Alex eclipsing any and all discomfort. None of the ways she had imagined being reunited with Alex could compare to the reality of making love with her. She felt Alex's fingers push further past her swollen lips as Alex shifted onto her elbows so that she could watch Olivia's face change as she pressed into her. Finally, she felt Alex push her thumb against her clit, and her muscles clenched and released, her orgasm sending a shudder through her body and causing her to whimper into the soft flesh of Alex's neck. Tears began to stream down her cheeks as her body lay recovering, nestled in Alex's long, protective arms.

"It's okay," Alex whispered, holding Olivia's trembling body, amazed and honored that Olivia was allowing herself to be so vulnerable with her. "It's okay, shhh.." She placed a row of tiny kisses on Olivia's forehead.

"I… knew… you… couldn't wait," Olivia managed to sputter out, chuckling softly through her tears as she drifted off to sleep.


	29. Chapter 29

**-55-**

**The Jamestown Museum**

**Williamsburg, VA **

**Tuesday, 9:25 a.m.**

It was immediately apparent, upon waking up, that the previous night's activities had taken a toll on Olivia. She even took the mature and, as Alex was beginning to realize, very uncharacteristic, step of admitting that she felt as though her insides were on fire. After two painkillers and a promise to wait until the weekend before attempting any more funny business, Olivia opted for a set-up on the couch rather than the bed.

"Don't move around unless you absolutely have to," Alex instructed, setting up the necessary remote controls and laying out a lunchtime snack on the coffee table.

"Considering that it takes me approximately thirty minutes to travel from here to the bathroom, I don't think you have to worry about me doing too much moving around," Olivia quipped.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay alone?" Alex asked, worry crossing her features. "I can call in if you need-"

"No, no, go," Olivia said, waving her off. "I'll be fine."

Alex hadn't stopped second-guessing her decision to follow that instruction since leaving the house, but she knew that Olivia was fiercely independent, and would resent all but the most minimal amount of babying. With a soft kiss on the lips and a promise to call at lunchtime, Alex closed the door and got into her car.

"Sarah!" Bill's voice called down the hallway as she walked toward her office. He walked over to her with a smile, and she gratefully realized that he didn't plan to mention the fact that she was half an hour late. "How was New York? How is your friend?"

"She's okay," Alex said, a little out of breath. "In fact, she's staying with me for a few weeks."

"You're taking care of her? That's sweet," he said. "Didn't you say on your message that she was shot?"

Alex nodded. As glad as she was to have Olivia back in her life, she still hated the circumstances. "She lost a kidney, but she'll eventually be fine."

"Wow," he shook his head. "And she flew all the way to Virginia? What is she, Supergirl? Or maybe a glutton for punishment?"

_Neither_, Alex thought. _Just a woman in love._ Instead of saying anything, she smiled wanly. Her boss was going to be her test run for dropping the True Identity bombshell. "Bill," she began, "can you find half an hour later on today for us to talk about something?"

He nodded. "I have time right now." He gestured to his office. "Come on in."

She followed him into the small office and sat down in the chair opposite his desk.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, giving her his full attention.

She decided to start off with the bottom line. "I wanted to let you know that I'll be moving to New York in late May," she said, matter-of-factly. "It seemed only fair to give you as much notice as possible. Of course, I'll help you to find a replace-"

"Whoa, whoa," he cut her off, surprised. "Moving to New York? Why? I mean… I guess it's none of my business, but, you know, why?"

Alex smiled. It felt good to finally let someone in on her secret, although she regretted not having rehearsed the delivery more before actually giving the speech. "Well, New York is home, and it's time to go home."

"I thought Alabama was home. What, did you live in New York as a kid?"

"Well, yes… and as an adult." She paused. "Bill, Sarah Reyes is not my real name." She watched his face to gauge his reaction. When it appeared as one of interest rather than one of accusation, she continued. "Five years ago, I was shot and nearly killed by a man who was working for a drug cartel. It all sounds a little dramatic, I know, but… I was put into the Witness Protection Program."

"Wait a minute," Bill said, exhaling slowly. "Are you puttin' me on, Sarah?"

"Not at all," she answered.

"What's your real name, then?" he asked.

"Alexandra Cabot."

"And Sarah Reyes?"

"That's the name the Bureau gave me," she explained. After a moment's pause, she continued. "I was an Assistant District Attorney, prosecuting one of the cartel's operatives. They tried to kill me as a message that they were untouchable."

Bill's telephone rang. Irritated, he picked it up and promptly slammed it back into the cradle, turning to Alex, rapt with attention. "What happened after that?"

Alex pursed her lips, trying to give him a sanitized version of the worst days of her life. "I was told that I could enter Witness Protection. I wouldn't be able to resume my real life until the man responsible for the hit on me was brought to justice." She met Bill's eyes. "That man died last week. It's time for me to go home."

Bill nodded. "I've never heard a story quite like that, Sarah. I mean…" He looked at her, questioningly.

"Alex," she supplied, helpfully. "I know it sounds more than a little crazy. It feels surreal to me, and I've been living it for five years."

"You've been Sarah this whole time?"

"No. First I was Emily Watson. I sold auto insurance in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I went home to New York for a weekend to testify against the man who shot me." She noted the increasingly disbelieving expression on Bill's kind face. "Once the cartel knew I was alive, I had to hide again… so I became Sarah."

"There is no crazy ex-husband after you, then?"

"How did-"

"Gossip," he waved the rest of her sentence off. "Look, you swear this is all true?"

"Yes. One hundred percent."

"Then I'm glad you're going home," he smiled. "Why May? Why not sooner?"

"Antonio has to finish school."

"Miguel?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"He really your stepson?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Do I want to know how he came to be living with you?" he asked warily, conscious that his old heart had already had enough surprises for one day.

She smiled at him. "No, I think I'll save that one for tomorrow."

"Then your friend – she's someone you knew when you were in New York?"

"A detective. We worked together."

"Wow." Bill stood up and considered her. "So, does that mean you're not in the mood to deliver today's lecture on the Virginia Company?"

Alex returned his smile, pulling on her glasses. "Send in the sixth graders," she announced, gesturing to the notes in her handbag. "I'm ready to go. I'll be here until May, Bill. You have plenty of time to find an actual historian."

"You mean you're not-"

"I was a history major," she grinned. "Will you take Harvard over the University of Alabama?"

"Lying on your resume. You're demoted," he deadpanned.

"Thanks, Bill," she said, smiling warmly as she stood to leave. She couldn't help but fear that when she shared the truth with Nathan and Angie Hendrix, things probably would not go as smoothly.

**-56-**

**Reyes Residence**

**Williamsburg, VA **

**Tuesday, 12:40 p.m.**

The second time Olivia woke herself up snoring, she decided to attempt a trek across the living room to the downstairs bathroom. Sitting up, she felt a dull ache in her midsection. In her twenty years on the force, Olivia had suffered several serious bruises and a couple of cracked ribs. The pain that had followed this surgery, however, was in a league of its own, even if she didn't want to admit as much to Alex.

"Here I go," she said, giving herself a small pep talk. "I can do this," she urged when her body didn't immediately cooperate. Pushing off with her hands, she eased herself onto the floor, and slowly crawled toward the bathroom door. By the time she made it back to the sofa fifteen minutes later, she eyed the large bottle of water Alex had left behind suspiciously. _Might not be worth it_… she decided.

Flipping on the television, she found that she was decidedly unimpressed with the daytime television schedule and hit a button to see what Alex had been recording on her DVR. "Looks like Antonio runs the show," she mused, noting the prevalence of _24_ and action movies. There were two Debbie Lynne Mahoney shows from a couple of weeks ago, and Olivia rolled her eyes, wondering when this obsession with bad court-related television shows had begun. "Alex," she said slowly, the word feeling like smooth honey in her throat.

As soon as the name left her lips, the phone Alex had placed on the coffee table in front of Olivia began to vibrate. "Hey, Sweetheart," she said merrily into the receiver.

"How'd you know it was me?" came the familiar voice.

"You said lunchtime."

"I could've been anyone."

"So? Maybe I'd make the telemarketer's day."

Alex chuckled. "How are you doing? Need me to come check on you?"

Olivia was thoughtful for a moment, tempted to feign distress just to see Alex. "Nah," she finally said. "I'll just take another sleeping pill. Day will go by in no time."

"I'm glad you're resting," Alex noted.

"You thought I would sign up for a yoga class?"

"I wouldn't put it past you."

Olivia laughed. "Something tells me I'd be out of luck with that plan out here, anyway…"

"Hey, this isn't as far in the boondocks as you might think," Alex said, feeling suddenly protective of her latest hometown. "I'll have you know there are _four_ yoga studios within a mile of the museum."

"When can I come see you at work?" Olivia asked, knowing she sounded a bit like an eager child. She couldn't help it. She wanted to see every aspect of Alex's life.

"Maybe next week, when you're moving around a little better. I'll give you a personal tour of the-"

"-of the tepees, yes," Olivia finished for her, chuckling.

"That's right."

Olivia sighed. "Have you talked to your boss?"

"Yeah. Covered that this morning."

"How'd it go?"

"It's a lot to ask someone to understand," Alex mused. "But Bill took it well. I think he's into the whole 'drama in real life' aspect of it."

"They could turn it into a movie."

"An _adult_ movie," Alex pointed out.

"I was under the impression that we were on restriction until Friday…"

"…at least Friday," Alex said.

"Funny, you always pretend to be so adamant about that, yet you're always the first to cave…" Although Olivia couldn't see her, she could swear she felt Alex rolling her eyes in a silent admission of guilt.

"I love you," Alex said simply.

"I love you," Olivia affirmed.

"See you in a few hours, okay? I'll make whatever you want for dinner…"

"I can eat anything I want?" Olivia teased.

Alex immediately picked up on the double meaning. "Goodbye…" she sing-songed, laughing as she hung up.

Olivia turned the telephone off, shifted, and tried to fall asleep on the couch as she vaguely listened to the sound of a soap opera that could have been any other soap opera playing in the background.

**-57-**

**Reyes Residence**

**Williamsburg, VA **

**Tuesday, 7:00 p.m.**

Antonio set the table as Alex wheeled Olivia across the living room so that she could join them at the dinner table.

"More culinary delights in store for tonight?" Olivia asked, smiling as she watched Alex disappear into the kitchen several times.

"Nothing fancy… just some pasta. Hard to mess it up," Alex demurred.

"Hey, I'm impressed," Olivia smiled. "It's good to know at least one of us can cook."

"Why does it come as no surprise that you're not exactly a domestic goddess?" Alex asked, a smile crossing her lips.

"If you looked into my fridge," Olivia proclaimed, drinking the sparkling water Alex had given her after she had requested shiraz, "you would find a couple of Sam Adamses and a bottle of ketchup. Maybe some butter in the back."

"When's the last time you cooked for yourself?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

"Um…" Olivia was thoughtful for a moment, and then shrugged, giving up.

"Liv…"

"Well, it's not like you did a lot of cooking in New York, either," Olivia pointed out. "Why go to the trouble just for me?"

"I'll always be happy to go to the trouble for you," Alex promised, kissing the top of Olivia's head once more before sitting down.

Antonio pretended not to notice, and finally joined the conversation. "So, I asked Angie if she and her dad want to come over for dinner tomorrow or Thursday. I figured it'd be a little crowded with Carla and Jeannie this weekend. Is that okay?"

Alex looked to Olivia. "Liv?"

"Of course. I want to meet your friends," Olivia replied.

"It'll be kind of awkward," Alex allowed. "Antonio, have you thought about whether you want to be the one to tell them?"

"Me?" His expression was incredulous. "They'll just think I'm making it up."

"Not if I'm sitting here with you," Alex pointed out.

"Do you think Angie will be mad at me for lying?"

"You weren't _lying._ Not really," Alex said, trying to think of what it had been, if not lying. Once upon a time, the black and white letters of the law had been so easily discernable. Now, everything was a tangled, gray mess. Her time at SVU had taught her that things were not always cut and dry. Sometimes the law served a higher purpose, and sometimes it stood in the way of justice. Antonio had been taught that lying was a sin and was never okay, and to respect his elders, to respect authority. And when his elders and authority instructed him to lie…he had. What toll had that taken?

"Whatever you wanna call it," Antonio said. "Do you think she'll be mad?"

"She might be, at first," Alex predicted. "But I know she really cares about you, and once she finds out who you really are, how much you loved your old life and that you get to see everyone who misses you… I think she'll be okay."

"Maybe she could even come visit you in New York someday," Olivia suggested. "I bet she'd think that was exciting enough to get over the whole 'secret identity' thing. She might even think it's kinda cool."

"Yeah?" he raised an eyebrow. "She might think it's cool?"

"Yeah!" Olivia said enthusiastically. "On the run from organized crime? Secret identities?" She winked at him. "You're practically James Bond."

Remembering Angie's comment about Daniel Craig being the hottest man on the planet, Antonio smiled smugly throughout the rest of the meal.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three hours later, Alex helped Olivia into the bed they now shared. "How is it?" she asked quietly, lighting running her hand across the bandages covering Olivia's midsection.

"Let's look," Olivia whispered conspiratorially.

"Not until tomorrow."

"Since when are you such a stickler for rules, Cabot?" Olivia smiled, tearing at the bandages.

"Stop it, stoppit," Alex muttered, batting Olivia's hands away. "You're worse than a six-year-old! Wait."

"I want to take a real shower _sooooo bad_," Olivia confessed.

"Can't get the scar wet for another week," Alex cautioned. "Sex with me might be worth a little cramping, but taking a shower isn't worth an infection."

Olivia giggled. "Does that mean we can-"

"Certainly not," Alex responded, kissing Olivia's lips sweetly. "You're going to have to settle for cuddles tonight, Detective…"

"Naked cuddles, at least?" Olivia bargained.

Alex smiled broadly. "You win," she relented, removing her t-shirt and pajama bottoms before she curled into Olivia's body. The feeling of Olivia's breasts against her back was sensational, and it was all she could do to keep her hands to herself as she drifted into a peaceful sleep. For the first time, she allowed herself to really believe that all of this was happening.


	30. Chapter 30

**-58-**

**Wednesday, 1 p.m.**

**Reyes Residence**

**Williamsburg, VA**

"Olivia!" the voice came clearly through the line. Olivia had been on the sofa since Alex had left for work, and after a slightly less-exhausting trip to the bathroom than the one she had embarked upon earlier that morning, she decided to call and see how Elliot was getting along without her.

"Has everything fallen apart?" she quipped, smiling broadly from her vantage on the sofa in Virginia.

"Believe it or not, I can handle things without you."

"Yeah, yeah," she teased. "What's going on?"

"Novak's in sentencing with Molinari right now," Elliot filled her in. "We got a signed confession on Sunday. Of course, they're going to argue that his confession makes the death penalty inapplicable."

"Cry me a river – we got him without the confession," Olivia snapped, her smile fading. "We didn't need it. He abducted, drugged, beat and sodomized a little boy and left him to die in the snow." Olivia felt her blood pressure begin to rise, and stopped herself. She had vowed that if she was going to risk her health, it would be for the sake of one activity alone. Talking to Elliot on the telephone was _not_ that activity.

"You're preaching to the choir, Liv," he responded.

"I know, El. What else?"

"We're okay. Hey, IAB is kind of looking into that field trip you took to the Roosevelt…"

"I assumed they would."

"I'd ask if it was worth losing a kidney and risking your career," he mused. "But I think I already know how you're going to answer that one."

"I think you do," Olivia said softly, a small smile returning to her face. Then, quietly, "I imagine that IAB is still investigating the shooting."

"You were smart to get the whole thing on audio/video," Elliot conceded. "Casey's taken a look at it. She anticipates that the investigation will be concluded in a few days and you'll be cleared by the end of next week." He was quiet a moment. "I haven't forgiven you yet, though."

"I know," Olivia sighed. She knew how upset she would have been if it were Elliot who had intentionally put himself in harm's way for a personal reason. She would have let him have it, and she was prepared to take the chastisement – she knew she deserved it.

"The DEA hasn't forgiven you, either," he continued.

Olivia sighed and looked at the ceiling. "Well… they got their man handed to them."

"Olivia… taking out Velez eliminated the chance they could go after dozens of other criminals. You compromised a decades-long federal investigation."

She was silent, knowing it was true.

It was Elliot who finally spoke. "How's Virginia?"

Olivia shrugged, although he couldn't see her. "You've seen one television set, you've seen 'em all."

"Getting plenty of couch time?"

"Yep. Alex won't let me do anything else. I'm surprised she didn't handcuff me to the sofa."

"I'm surprised she hasn't handcuffed you to-"

"Stop it, El," Olivia laughed, pretty sure she knew where that comment had been headed.

"So, you're shacking up with Cabot." A teasing tone was evident in his voice. "Who'da thunk it?"

Olivia closed her eyes and smirked. "Yeah…"

"She seem any different to you?" he asked, a little uncertainly.

"What do you mean?" she asked, quickly.

He was quiet. Olivia knew Elliot well enough to recognize that he was choosing his words carefully. _Why is he worried about saying the wrong thing_? she wondered. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "She seems a little… I dunno… different."

"She's been living someone else's life for three years, Elliot," Olivia said, suddenly feeling defensive. "She's been through hell. She almost died, then she had a new identity, and then everything happened between us… it was overwhelming for me, and I didn't even have to get another identity and become a mother the next day."

"Hey, hold on," he said, sounding a little defensive himself. "It wasn't an insult. I'm just sayin'. I agree with you, all right? I agree that she's had a hell of a lot to deal with and she's probably dealt with it a hell of a lot better than most people would."

"So, what _are_ you saying, Elliot?"

"That she doesn't quite seem like the same old Cabot. She's a little quieter, a little softer. I dunno, a little… off her game."

"Maybe it had something to do with me lying in a hospital bed and the shock of coming home," she said, accusingly. She knew that there had always been a significant deal of tension between Elliot and Alex; they were about as different as two people could be. Sometimes it seemed that all they had in common was a shared passion for justice and a shared devotion to Olivia. Still, she was surprised that he had wasted no time in criticizing Alex. Even if he didn't call it criticism, it certainly felt like it to Olivia.

"Maybe," Elliot said, his voice a little softer. He knew he had said the wrong thing, and from the sound of it, didn't intend to push the line of conversation any further. "Hey, you know her better than anyone."

"You're right. I do," Olivia said, surprised at the bite in her own voice.

Elliot was quiet. Back in New York, he was sitting at his desk, wondering if it was the combination of medication and the inability to get out of the wheelchair and move around that was making his partner so edgy. He knew that the bed rest must be hell on someone as independent and active as Olivia, and decided to cut her some slack. "We miss you, Liv," he said, gently.

"I miss you too, El," she answered, finally sounding relaxed again. "I'll see you first week of April. Antonio has spring break, I'll be walking – maybe with crutches, but that's not what I'm planning."

"Back to New York for a week?"

"We need to find a place to live together," Olivia responded, smiling. The thought of waking up next to Alex every morning for the rest of her life brought her a feeling of security and joy unlike any she had ever known.

"Antonio staying with you?"

"Not sure about that yet. His aunts are coming this weekend. They've expressed interest in taking him home." Olivia sighed. "I know that would be hard on Alex, but she says she'll understand."

"Might give you two some alone time," he pointed out.

"I can't say I haven't considered that," she remarked.

"Either way, it makes me happy to know that you're happy," he told her. "Although I always thought the fairy tale princess was supposed to ride in on a white horse before taking you away to the penthouse in the sky. I didn't know you were supposed to get your kidney blown out first."

Olivia groaned. "I'll call you later this week," she assured him, and hung up.

Reaching across the coffee table for the remote, Olivia flipped the television on and began searching for the same soap opera she had half-watched the day before. She never would have admitted it, but she was starting to wonder whether the himbo neurosurgeon and his hapless assistant had managed to successfully divide the bipolar conjoined twins.

**-59-**

**Wednesday, 9 p.m.**

**Reyes Residence**

**Williamsburg, VA**

Dinner that night was a more casual affair than usual, with Alex deciding that maybe they should just order a pizza. She had gotten no argument from either Antonio or Olivia, who had been thrilled to learn of their shared passion for deluxe pizza.

"How do you eat like that," Alex gestured at the pizza crust Olivia was giddily dunking into garlic butter, "and look like that?" She cast an appreciative gaze in the detective's direction.

Olivia smirked and shrugged. "When I'm not stuck in a wheelchair, I work out six days a week," she admitted. "I don't eat right, but I do take care of myself."

Alex nodded. "You're going to start eating right, okay?"

"Yes, Dear," Olivia grinned, picking a piece of pepperoni off the pizza and popping it into her mouth.

"Antonio, did Angie tell you whether she and Nathan will be able to join us for dinner tomorrow night?" Alex asked

He nodded. "Yeah, they'll be here. Are you making salmon again?"

"I hadn't thought about it. Why?"

"Because it's, like, the only thing you're confident about these days. You don't usually like to change it up when you find a winner."

"Sheesh," she said in mock-irritation, her heart warmed when Olivia laughed heartily at Antonio's small dig. "No respect. Maybe _you_ want to cook, Smarty Pants."

"Nah, salmon's okay," he said, quickly backpedaling. "I mean, whatever you want to do is okay."

"I thought so," Alex said, pleased at how quickly he had changed his tune.

"So, Nathan's a cop?" Olivia asked, working on her third slice of pizza and eyeballing the chocolate chip cookies sitting atop the center of the table.

"Williamsburg PD," Alex answered. "It's not quite like being a cop in New York. He has time to volunteer as a soccer coach at the high school, and he shares custody of Angie with his ex-wife. He's been a real friend to me," she mused.

Olivia nodded. "Good. I'm looking forward to meeting him, swapping war stories…"

Alex smiled. She had worked with Olivia for almost four years, but recognized that there were certain aspects to Olivia's job that she would never – could never – fully appreciate. Olivia and Elliot had to venture into the trenches every day. They had to go to the crime scenes before any clean-up had been performed. On an almost-daily basis, they dealt with the remains of victims who had been tortured or brutally killed. Even more often, they were the first people to have contact with the survivors – living victims who had been raped, beaten, sometimes tortured for days or longer. There was a brutality to Olivia's job that Alex knew she could never really understand, no matter how hard she tried. Alex knew that the most exciting thing Nathan probably did in a day's work was write a speeding ticket, but Olivia had already given him respect simply because, like her, he wore a badge.

"Need any help with your homework, Antonio?" Olivia asked, helpfully.

"How are you at algebra?" he offered, sensing that she was eager to make herself useful.

"I'm the best," she said, confidently.

Alex raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I am," Olivia said defiantly, noticing Alex's expression. "I was a Mathlete."

"_What_?" Alex gasped, exploding in giggles.

"Total nerd," Olivia promised, crossing her heart as her two tablemates continued to laugh at her. "It's what happens when your mother's a college professor. If I didn't bring home straight As, forget about any new records or movies for at least a semester."

"A gentlewoman and a scholar," Alex said softly, reaching out to caress Olivia's cheek.

"Antonio, let's step into my office," Olivia directed, gesturing to the sofa, taking a small plate of cookies with her.

----------------- ------------------------------- ---------------------- ----------------------

That night, after Olivia had helped Antonio with his homework, Alex wheeled her into the bedroom and eased her out of the chair, laying her on the bed and slowly pulling off her clothing.

"It's so sexy when you do that…" Olivia murmured, watching Alex's delicate movements, unable to stop wondering if there had been any truth to Elliot's assertion that Alex was somehow a little _less_ than she had been before.

"Do what?" Alex asked, loosening the button on Olivia's jeans. She pulled the zipper down and gently lifted her to remove the garments.

"Undressing me…"

Alex smiled at Olivia, slowly pulling the jeans past her knees and then off her calves. "Here," she said, sitting next to the reclining detective. She covered Olivia's hand with her own, and lifted it to her breast. "It's your turn to undress me…"

Olivia smiled at Alex, working her fingers around the buttons of Alex's blouse, pushing it off her shoulders, and watching it fall onto the covers, revealing a blue silk bra that matched her lover's cobalt eyes. "You…" Olivia breathed, "are amazing, Alexandra…" She dropped her hand and gently caressed Alex's breast, closing her eyes and luxuriating in the weight of Alex's flesh in her hands.

Alex breathed deeply, her expression serious and searching. Reaching out a tentative hand, she ran her fingers through the soft hair falling over Olivia's forehead. "Sometimes I'm afraid to believe you're really here with me," she admitted, reaching behind herself to help Olivia remove her bra. She snuggled in close, resting her head in the dip between Olivia's arm and chest. "I wanted you for so long…"

"I know," Olivia responded, her voice heavy as she squeezed an arm around Alex and kissed the crown of her head. "Five years was far too long to wait…"

"Nine," Alex corrected her.

"Nine?"

"You're forgetting all the years before Cesar Velez entered our lives," Alex pointed out.

"You were pining for me all along?" Olivia smirked, not believing it for a moment. "Come on."

"You doubt me?" Alex giggled.

"Kind of, yeah," Olivia admitted.

"Why is it so hard for you to believe?" Alex queried. "You must have known the effect you had on me…"

"No," Olivia shook her head slowly. "I think I was too busy trying not to show you the effect you were having on _me_."

"And what effect was _that_, Detective?" Alex delivered an open-mouthed kiss to Olivia's throat.

Olivia closed her eyes and turned her head, surrendering her flesh to Alex's lips and tongue. "Every time I looked at you, my heart raced… every time you spoke to me, I almost lost my balance," Olivia confessed. "When you accidentally brushed my hand, I could feel myself getting wet…"

"Who said I ever accidentally did anything?" Alex whispered, her breath hot in Olivia's ear.

"You _knew_ what you were doing… and you did it anyway…" Olivia said, accusing Alex as she realized. "You tortured me…"

"You tortured _me_, Olivia," Alex returned the accusation, her arms still wound tightly around the other woman's waist. "Every time you'd come into my office with that _look_ on your face…"

"What look?"

"_That_ look…"

"I don't have a look."

"The hell you don't."

They both laughed, Olivia shifting so that her breasts pushed against Alex's, her lips capturing the younger woman's in a soft kiss. "What look?" she asked again, innocently.

"The look that said you knew I wanted you more than anything on earth but that I was far too initimated to do anything about it. The look that _dared_ me to tell you how badly I wanted you to hold me and possess me…"

"I had that look?" Olivia's eyes went slightly wide.

"Don't deny it," Alex said, pointing a teasing finger at Olivia. "It's the look. It was the attitude. It was that goddamn _strut_, Olivia…"

"Strut?"

Alex nodded solemnly. "Like you wouldn't fucking believe."

"I don't strut."

Alex laughed from the gut, and Olivia couldn't help but laugh along with her. "Well… maybe I strut _a little_…"

Alex groaned, rubbing her hand over Olivia's perfect breasts, feeling the nipples become hard underneath her palm. "Maybe a little," she mocked, delighting in the smile that spread across Olivia's face.

Olivia lay back, enjoying Alex's attention. Alex dipped her mouth to Olivia, placing several small kisses on the soft, tan flesh round her lover's breasts and then closing her mouth around Olivia's nipples while Olivia watched, growing incredibly aroused at the sight of Alex pleasuring her. A small moan escaped her lips as Alex's tongue flicked across the sensitive skin.

"I don't deserve you," she whispered, her tone serious.

Alex slowly released Olivia's breast from her mouth and turned her face to regard Olivia. "Why would you say that?"

Olivia shook her head, a sad smile on her face. "Look at you… you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen…"

"You're no slouch in that department, either, Olivia," Alex said drily.

Olivia shook her head. "Alex, you're perfect. You know that."

Alex frowned. She didn't like where the conversation was going. "No, actually, I don't."

"You're special," Olivia insisted. "You're brilliant, you're beautiful, you're destined for greatness. You always look perfectly put together and you're from an important family… you're…."

"Rich," Alex finished for her in a tone utterly lacking amusement.

"Well, yeah, okay? And me? I'm rough around the edges, Alex. I'm a cop, for God's sake," she sighed. "My background…" she looked at Alex, brown eyes searching blue. "It's not exactly like the kids you grew up with," she concluded. "I'm sort of from the wrong side of the tracks. I grew up in a tiny little apartment in the Bronx. We never had money…"

Alex sighed, pained to hear Olivia speak about herself as though she was unworthy of lying here as Alex's equal. "I want to know about where you come from, Liv," she said, seriously. "I want you to tell me about it. But it isn't going to change anything."

"You can't know that," Olivia said quietly, her eyes filling with tears as she realized it was now or never. She would have to tell Alex everything and trust that it wouldn't change the way Alex saw her. "You asked me about my father…"

Alex nodded. "You didn't know him?" she asked gently, sharing the assumption she had formed when Olivia had quickly changed the subject in her apartment.

Olivia shook her head, biting her lip as she struggled with the words. She had said it before; had long ago accepted the circumstances of her birth. Yet, she had never before cared so deeply about any person's reaction to the news as she did about Alex's reaction in this moment. "Alex, my father raped my mother," she said, staring at the ceiling. "I'm the product of that rape." She was quiet for several seconds, and when she returned her eyes to her lover, Alex was looking at her with eyes full of acceptance and what looked very much like understanding.

"I am so sorry," she said, her voice tender as she softly brushed aside Olivia's tears with her fingers.

Olivia cried quietly for several minutes, allowing Alex to love and care for her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but…"

"It's okay," Alex said, pulling Olivia a little closer. "You've told me now. And I know that's probably why you've spent so much of your life feeling not good enough, feeling like you don't deserve to be happy." Alex stroked Olivia's hair slowly, treasuring the intimacy between them. "But know that it breaks my heart to hear you say that you're not enough for me. Olivia, you're all that I want. You're all that I need."

"Would you be happier with someone a little more like y-"

"Stop it," Alex cut her off, covering her lips with a kiss. "Didn't you hear me? I want you. I… I need you, Liv, in a way I've never needed anyone. I feel incomplete without you. I didn't know I was even capable of feeling like this… nobody will ever be to me what you are… don't you ever convince yourself that I could ever be happy with anyone else."

Olivia nodded. "I'm so in love with you, Alex," she murmured. "I just want to deserve you…"

"Shhhh," Alex kissed Olivia deeply, silencing her. "Be quiet, be still…. And allow yourself to be happy. Promise?"

"Promise," Olivia said, her tears subsiding as she concentrated on the steady rise and fall of Alex's chest, allowing herself to be lulled into a deep and peaceful slumber in the arms of the woman she adored.


	31. Chapter 31

**-60-**

**Thursday, 5:00 p.m.**

**Reyes Residence**

**Williamsburg, VA**

Olivia glared down at her itching abdomen in frustration. When Alex helped her remove the bandages that morning before leaving for work, they had both been pleased to discover that Olivia's scar wasn't nearly as big as they had been prepared to see. When Olivia made a face, Alex tried, unsuccessfully, to convince her that the scar made her look tough.

"I haven't had a shower for a week," Olivia moaned as Alex got her things together for work. "You sure you want me to meet your friends smelling like a fish market in the middle of July?"

"_You don't stink_," Alex insisted for the third time that morning. "If you smelled half as bad as you keep insisting you do, I wouldn't be sleeping next to you every night."

Olivia smirked. How could she argue with that winning point? "Doesn't mean I won't require your assistance in the bathtub as soon as you get home from work…"

"A half-bath it is," Alex promised, kissing her goodbye reminding her that Antonio had made arrangements to ride the bus home with Angie and come over at dinner time with the Hendrixes. This would give them time to get ready for dinner – Alex had a meal to prepare and a detective to bathe.

Now, at 5:00, Olivia was feeling restless and impatient as she waited for Alex to return home. _Home, home to me…_ The thought brought her the first smile of the day. Three days of sitting on the couch alone for hours were taking their toll.

She itched and she ached.

Lying still hurt, and moving hurt even more.

She was bored, and there wasn't a fucking thing she could do about it.

The telephone rang, and Olivia realized that she didn't care if it was only the cable company with another hot new offer - she was so desperately craving an actual conversation with another human being to the point that she practically jumped off the sofa to pick up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hey, Baby."

"Alex!" Olivia smiled at the sound of her lover's voice. "Thank God you called."

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm just so bored that I've found where your carpet pattern repeats."

"Olivia."

"It's right by the stairs, you can see-"

"I believe you," Alex laughed into the phone. "I just think there are probably more productive ways for you to spend your time.

"Like what?" Olivia muttered. "I've already figured out the plot lines on all of the ABC soaps and memorized Oprah's Favorite Things."

"My Liv isn't taking to the role of domesticated convalescent," Alex observed drily as she navigated traffic.

"Is my Alex actually surprised?" Olivia smirked.

"I'll be home a few minutes later than I thought…" Alex said.

"Noooooooo…." Olivia whined. Was she actually going to have to wait even longer for something to happen? Alex walking through the door with a smile and a kiss was the absolute highlight of her day.

"I need to go to the grocery store," Alex countered. "I realized today that I'm out of olive oil, and I can't do the veggies-"

"Take me with you," Olivia suggested.

"I think that's a little too much for you right now," Alex replied.

"You can wheel me around…"

"Honey…"

"What?" Olivia sighed. "Fine, fine. Picking me up and carting my broken ass around the store is gonna add a half hour, and you don't have time…"

"Warm the oven up for me?" Alex asked, trying to invent ways for Olivia to feel helpful. She knew that Olivia would appreciate the task, and that it might occupy her for fifteen minutes. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Anything I can get for you at the market?"

"Hard liquor. Lots of it."

"Liv."

Olivia smiled. Alex was so easily rattled. "I'm okay," she promised. "I'll see you when you get home."

She placed the telephone back on the table and steadied her gaze on the stove. "You're mine," she growled.

----------------------------------------

Two hours later, Alex was frantically moving around the kitchen while Olivia was placed in charge of her own hair and makeup. The bath Alex had helped administer left her feeling cleaner than she had in days, and she determined that with a little effort, she might even start to feel vaguely attractive by the time Alex's new friends arrived.

"Liv," Alex called, walking into the bedroom. She held out a spoon. "Taste this?"

Olivia grinned up at her. "There are a dozen things I could say right now-"

"Liv," Alex whined, impatiently.

"-all of them terribly naughty," Olivia concluded, leaning toward Alex and taking a bite of the chili Alex had been preparing. As soon as the familiar, spicy flavor filled her mouth, her eyes widened and her mouth formed a gigantic smile. "Holy…"

Alex grinned wickedly. "Kathy Stabler e-mailed me her recipe this morning. It only took two days of begging… but when I played the 'since I'll be cooking for Olivia from now on, so I really need to know her favorite recipe,' card, she folded like a cloth napkin."

Olivia drummed her fists on the dresser playfully. "Yay!" she announced. "It's perfect, Sweetheart. Make it _every night_."

"Whew," Alex leaned down and kissed her. "Not only will I have something decent tonight, but apparently I am capable of preparing your favorite dinner."

"I loved you even when you were burning down kitchens all over New York," Olivia promised.

"I accidentally set fire to one stove. I didn't burn down any kitchens, and I wasn't a serial culinary arsonist" Alex protested as Olivia pulled her close so that her belly was level with Olivia's forehead. She kissed the soft, cool flesh, delighted that Alex would always take the bait on that one.

"So, this Nathan guy," Olivia asked, changing the subject as she nibbled Alex's skin, "how do you know him?"

"We met at the soccer tryouts," Alex answered, playfully swatting Olivia away as she swept her hair into an elegant up-do and retouched her makeup. "He's a really nice guy. You'll like him."

"Did he ask you out?" Olivia was still smiling.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Olivia shrugged. "If I saw you sitting there, I'd have asked you out…"

"No you wouldn't have," Alex challenged, grinning. "For years, Liv, you 'saw me sitting there' and never asked me out."

Olivia frowned. "Well, things have changed. I no longer believe in wasting time." She lowered her hand and caressed Alex's ass tenderly.

Alex leaned over Olivia and kissed her forehead before applying her lipstick. "Good thing I threw myself at you in that hotel room, otherwise we'd still be wondering what the other was thinking…"

Olivia smiled proudly. "Good thing I was so irresistible that you couldn't help yourself."

"Oh, stop," Alex grinned, spritzing Olivia with perfume before deciding on a different, complementary fragrance for herself.

"So he _did_ ask you out," Olivia teased, her tone playful but her expression serious. Alex realized that she wasn't getting out of this conversation without spilling all the beans.

"Once or twice," she admitted. "I explained to him that I was not in the market for romance, and he understood."

"He didn't push it?" Olivia frowned. She had no idea why she suddenly felt possessive – after all, she was the one who had asked. Twice. Still, she couldn't deny that having it confirmed that Nathan had at one point looked at Alex with anything other than platonic eyes irked her.

"He didn't," Alex insisted, rolling her down the hallway and into the living room so they could continue their conversation while Alex set the table. "I told him I only wanted to be friends, and he's been a gentleman about it." She shook her head at Olivia and paused to run a finger through her hair, mussing it slightly.

From her chair, Olivia observed how Alex folded the napkins just so at the different places around the table, slipping elegant rings around each. Only Alexandra Cabot could make a production out of a simple chili dinner, with sour cream and cheese sitting in elegant gravy boats on the table and water and wine goblets placed next to each place setting.

"I thought you were slummin' it middle-class style out here, Counselor?" she teased as Alex lit candles and dimmed the lights.

"The dinnerware and glasses are from Target," Alex shrugged. "I'm just faking it, really."

"Still. Style is forever," Olivia murmured appreciatively as Alex finished setting the scene.

----------------------------------------

Nathan and Angie arrived on time at 7:30, with Antonio in tow. Olivia immediately noticed how strange it seemed to her when Antonio answered easily to the name "Miguel" and wondered how long his own adjustment period had been.

When Alex went to let them in, and Olivia strained to get a look at Nathan, wondering why she was so curious. After all, Alex had already told her that Nathan had never been a contender. Still, she felt her jaw clenching when she saw him. Alex had never mentioned that he was so good-looking – tall, built, with thick dark hair and kindly brown eyes. His jaw was square and his voice low and even. Olivia frowned, disliking him instantly. Was it really necessary for him to hold onto Alex for that long after greeting her? They'd seen each other not a week ago.

"Olivia?" he asked, walking over to her with his large hand extended.

From her chair, she locked a phony smile into place and reached out to take his hand. _Limp handshake! Aha!_ she thought, triumphantly, before realizing that he was probably taking it easy on her on account of the recent gunshot wound and hospitalization. _Still, I outrank him, and he shouldn't have called me Olivia_, she rationalized, still trying to hold onto a reason not to like him.

"Nathan," she said, her voice saccharine even to her own ears. She thought she saw Alex shoot her a curious look, but instead of returning it, she turned to greet Nathan's daughter, a very pretty redhead who was standing near Antonio.

After everyone had been formally introduced and the food had been served, and once the obligatory compliments on the food had been delivered, the conversation turned to shop talk. Olivia found that Nathan was, curse him, a gifted conversationalist – friendly and funny, and genuinely interested in hearing about life on the force in New York.

"So, how did you two meet again? Back in Alabama?" he asked.

"Actually, we met in New York," Alex said, slowly. She looked around the table and noted that everyone had more or less finished eating, so the time for bombshell-dropping had apparently arrived.

"New York? I thought…" he paused. "Sarah, didn't you say Olivia moved to New York later on?"

"That was… sort of… a lie," Alex admitted slowly.

Nathan raised his eyebrows quizzically. "OK… but why?" He was trying to keep his tone friendly, but was obviously confused. Olivia sat up a little straighter in her wheelchair, wondering how he would react to the truth.

Alex sighed. "Nathan, Angie…" she began. Antonio was staring at her with wide eyes, and Olivia instantly felt guilty for hoping their reactions would be anything other than complete understanding. "There's really no 'right' way to say what I'm about to say," she began. "So I'm going to… say it."

Nathan looked at her, expectantly.

"You've been tremendous friends to us, and I can't tell you how much we appreciated your help this weekend, letting me go back to New York to be with Olivia while she was-"

"Sarah," Nathan interrupted. "What are you trying to tell us?"

She gestured toward Antonio. "Our names are not Sarah and Miguel Reyes."

Nathan shifted. "It's okay," he said, almost as though he had been expecting an announcement along those lines. "I know a little bit about your ex-husband. You had to change your names and get away from him?"

Olivia looked at Alex, mildly surprised. She knew that Alex had given her doctors that line, but her friends, too? It must have killed Alex to have spent so much time being thought of as a victim, a woman on the run, even though that was what she had been.

"Not quite," Alex corrected. "We're in the Witness Protection Program. We… _were _in the Program, but it's safe for us to go back to our lives now."

Nathan was quiet a moment, and Angie looked at him, confused. "Are you serious?" he finally said, an expression somewhere between disbelief and interest on his face.

"Very," she affirmed. "We're from New York, not Alabama."

Angie looked to Antonio. "What's your real name?" she asked, slowly.

"Antonio Montoya," he muttered. Somehow, the name he'd looked forward to saying for three years felt like an admission of guilt as it left his lips.

"And yours?" Nathan looked to Alex.

"Alexandra Cabot." She managed a little more strength than Antonio had as she spoke her name. "I was an Assistant District Attorney in New York, and I was shot by a man working for a drug cartel. He didn't appreciate my prosecuting one of his underlings for killing his girlfriend."

"Wait, wait," Nathan said, interrupting her. "What is this?"

"It's the truth," she replied, quickly, looking to Olivia for support. Olivia nodded, glancing back and forth from Alex to Nathan and Angie.

"Cesar Velez," he said slowly, the truth dawning on him. "I read about him. The drug guy who was shot and killed last week." He looked at Olivia. "You're the New York cop who just shot Cesar Velez?" There was an element of awe in his voice, and Olivia's enmity softened a bit.

"Yes," she said, simply. "But, as you can see," she gestured toward her midsection, "he didn't go down easily."

"I'm sorry," he said, raising his hands. "This is all a little difficult to swallow…"

"I understand," Alex said. "Nathan, you and Angie, you're our friends. Now, we're going to be going back to New York soon, but…"

"What?" Angie asked, her voice raising. "You're moving to New York?" She looked at Antonio accusingly.

"It's where I'm from," he explained, looking down at his empty bowl and she nodded, somewhat sadly.

"… but there's no reason to stop being friends," Alex was saying. "I'm glad that we've had the opportunity to meet you both, and we'll be here until the end of the school year."

Nathan's expression was vacant. "I'm sorry, I just… this isn't the sort of thing you hear every day, Sarah." He shook his head and corrected himself. "Alexandra."

Olivia's eyes narrowed. Sure, it was juvenile and she knew it, but she liked Nathan even less when he called Alex by her true name.

"Whatever you want to know, we can tell you now," she was assuring him. "I'm sorry that we haven't been able to be honest until now, but I know you understand…"

"I'm not sure I do," he admitted. "Has anything been true?"

Antonio shook his head. "I'm sorry. Not really."

"We had you in our home, and we knew nothing about you," Angie said, sounding upset.

"Angie," Nathan put up a hand to quiet her. "It's not Miguel's fault."

"That's not his name," she scowled.

"Angie," Nathan said, clearly uncomfortable.

"I know you're upset," Alex said, trying to calm her. "You have every right to be upset, but we never intentionally misled you…"

"I don't care if it was intentional or not," Angie said, standing up. "I'm sorry, but I can't be friends with people I can't even trust." She stood up, and Nathan looked to her, then back at Alex.

"It's okay, Nate," she said quietly. "Why don't you go home and talk about this? We'll catch up with you soon, when you've had a chance to process it."

Nathan nodded and folded his napkin. "Thank you for dinner," he mumbled, clearly at a loss for the right thing to say. "We'll, ah, we'll… be in touch."

Olivia cast a supportive look Alex's way as the Hendrixes left. "I'm sure he'll be okay in few days," she started.

"But she won't. She hates me," Antonio muttered, standing up from the table and tossing his napkin onto his abandoned chair as he shuffled into his bedroom, gloomily.

Alex started to call after him, but Olivia stilled her by placing a hand on her arm. "Let him go," she advised. "He feels like he's just lost his best friend, and he's not old enough to understand that in a few days, she'll come back around."

Alex nodded, knowing Olivia was right. "I'm going to clear the table," she said, quietly. "I just want to go to bed, okay? I don't want to talk about… any of this."

Olivia nodded. She, too, understood that Alex would come around – once the initial shock of rejection had worn off, everything would return to normalcy. For tonight, though, she would be able to give Alex all that she needed – silence, compassion, and love.


	32. Chapter 32

**-61-**

**Friday, 11 a.m.**

**The Jamestown Museum**

**Williamsburg, VA**

Alex lifted the large blue mug to her lips and made a face when she realized that her coffee was well on its descent from lukewarm. "Yuck," she muttered, pushing the cup to the far end of her desk in disappointment.

Alex toggled through the airline's website information to confirm the arrival of Antonio's aunts the following day. She was looking forward to meeting his family, and felt that felt he was due this visit – after all, hadn't she and Olivia already had their reunion? Why shouldn't he have the same chance with the people he cared most about? Still, she found herself wishing that their weekend in Virginia wasn't coming so quickly. Olivia's bandages had just come off the day before, and although she was allowed to take a real bath today, she wasn't yet at a hundred percent.

Alex felt herself smile, her cheeks growing warm (and, she was sure, a little red) at the thought of joining Olivia for that first shower. Olivia didn't know it yet, but Alex had fibbed to Bill about a dentist's appointment in the afternoon to justify leaving early and getting back to Olivia before Antonio arrived home from soccer practice at 6:00. A busy weekend awaited them, and whatever private time she wanted with Olivia would have to happen before the house filled up with other people.

Alex removed the cheap wire frames she wore, and turned them over in her hands. _I have to replace these ugly things_, she thought, planning the first of what would surely be many Retail Therapy sessions in New York.

The thought was marinating when she heard a heavy knock on her office door. "Special delivery," Bill joked after Alex called for him to come in. As soon as he turned to face her, she smiled. He was holding a large floral arrangement. Twin yellow orchids were the stars of the show, with bright colors bursting out of a lovely opaque cerulean vase.

A smile spread across Alex's face. _When did she do this?_

Bill carefully placed the flowers on her desk. "Who're they from?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the card placed amidst the flowers.

"I'll never tell," she responded, playfully. Knowing Olivia, the card probably said something inappropriate. Either way, she wasn't going to allow anyone to look at it without making sure it was work-safe.

"Fine, fine," Bill said, moving to leave the office. "Probably one of those fifth-grade boys from last week. I thought I saw a few of them givin' you a second look." They both chuckled. "You have a Pocahontas lecture in an hour," he reminded her.

"I'm on it," she lied, hoping she could easily lay her hands on her talking points. She hadn't delivered that one in a while.

Bill nodded, and moved to leave the office. When the door closed behind him, Alex greedily searched for the tiny white card in the sea of flora. Finding it, she opened the envelope and removed the small piece of cardstock. She realized that the handwriting was decidedly _masculine, _and her heart sank.

_Alex,_

_Please forgive me for my poor reaction last night. I understand now the reasons_

_you weren't ready before, but if you'll give me a chance, I'd like to get to know the _

_real you. Call me?_

_Nathan _

Alex sighed. Nathan was ready to apologize, but only because he thought that her convoluted past was the sole reason she hadn't been interested in dating him. Now that the truth was out, he evidently assumed she had would have no reservations about hopping into bed with him. _Christ_. Alex exhaled slowly, and decided she had time to call home for a few minutes before delving back into Pocahontas.

"'Lo?" came the sleepy voice that answered three rings later.

"Hey, you…" Alex said, smiling as soon as she heard the comforting voice of the only person she planned to hop into bed with anytime in the foreseeable future.

"Hey, Slacker," Olivia teased.

"I'm working!" Alex insisted, giggling softly. "I just… I just missed you. I wanted to hear you for a minute. How are you?" Alex stole a guilty look at the flowers on her desk, and decided not to mention them yet, or at all. She already sensed some undefined hostility between Olivia and Nathan, and hardly wanted to throw any fuel on that fire.

"Mmmm…." Olivia grew quiet, and Alex could swear she _saw_ her settling back into the couch. "Are you alone in your office?"

"Yes. For the next half hour or so, anyway… then I have a lecture about Pocahontas."

Olivia snorted. "I'm sorry I'm missing that one," she teased.

"Hey, my lectures are pretty spectacular…" Alex teased back, feeling a little defensive despite herself. Her work at the museum wasn't as high-stakes as being an ADA had been, but she was able to take pride in it.

"Know what else is spectacular? Your tits…"

"That was so lame," Alex deadpanned, but she was unable to stop laughing as Olivia kept talking.

"Your ass, that's spectacular. And your legs, and your eyes, and…."

"Liv…"

"Know what I'm doin'?" Olivia chirped.

"I know what you'd better be doing," Alex retorted. "You'd better be resting on the sofa, taking it easy, is what you'd better be doing."

"I am, I am," Olivia assured her. "With… my hand… in my pants and I'm touch-"

"_Stop_!" Alex gasped, covering her mouth with her hands in a surprised reaction to her own volume. "Olivia, I'm at work."

"Want to know where my other hand is?" Olivia tempted her, undeterred.

"No."

"Yes, you do."

"I don't." Alex moved her hand and allowed her forehead to slump forward into it. "I really… don't," she sighed, wondering.

"Fine, I won't tell you," Olivia said, smugly.

"Good," Alex laughed. She cast a furtive glance around, and then at the clock, shocked that she was even considering having this conversation in her office. "Okay," she muttered, "go ahead and tell me."

Olivia laughed heartily. "I'm not doing anything interesting with my other hand," she confessed. "But, you know, I absolutely could be…"

"Forget it," Alex chuckled. "Save it for the bathtub, Detective."

"Oh, I will… I will," Olivia vowed.

**-62-**

**Friday, 2:30 p.m.**

**Reyes Residence**

**Williamsburg, VA**

When Alex opened the door to her house, Olivia was reclining on the sofa, her eyes half-shut and her hand falling over the side of the sofa lazily, the remote control dangling loosely in her hand. The sound of Alex entering and closing the door behind her caused Olivia to snap to attention, though, and she brought her watch up to her face before looking at Alex in confusion.

"You're home early," she said, sounding a little worried. "Everything okay?"

"Oh, I'm not home," Alex smirked "I'm _at the dentist._"

Olivia stared at her for a moment, not comprehending. Then, slowly, a grin of realization crossed her face. "Alexandra," she cooed, "you sly devil. You left work early to come home and take a shower with me?"

Alex smiled. "Little did I know I'd find you watching… wait, what is this?"

"Nothin'," Olivia said quickly, reaching for the remote as Alex spun around to check out what was on television.

"Olivia," she gasped, realizing what her girlfriend had been watching.

"It was on. I wasn't watching it or anything," Olivia said quickly, snapping the television off.

"You're watching _Cops_," Alex accused.

"I'm homesick."

"This helps? Watching people get busted for speeding?" Alex smirked.

"Well, if I can't actually _be_ _in _a high speed chase…" Olivia shrugged, offering a slightly off-center grin.

"You want to chase me to the bedroom?" Alex challenged her, smiling wickedly.

"Not very hard to beat a woman with one kidney who can't stand up on her own for more than ten seconds," Olivia grunted, pushing herself off the couch with the palms of her hands, smiling the entire time.

Alex extended a hand, and finally, Olivia accepted it without reservation, allowing Alex to help her down the hall and into the bathroom adjoining the master bedroom. Once inside, Alex turned to face Olivia, smiling as she leaned forward and placed the first of several small kisses underneath her ear.

"Mmm," Olivia mumbled, moving her hands to rest on Alex's slender hips. "That's nice…"

"I have a few other things in store for you, Detective," Alex promised, her voice thick with want.

"Yeah? Like what?" Olivia smiled back at her.

"You'll see," Alex promised, allowing Olivia to rest against the wall while she began to draw the bath. Silently thankful that her tub was large enough to accommodate the both of them – it was one of the few luxuries afforded by her otherwise modest home – Alex tossed a handful of bath salts under the running water.

Alex re-entered the bedroom to discover that Olivia hadn't wasted any time. She sat propped on the bed, her blouse unbuttoned and her yoga pants halfway to her ankles, though she had clearly stumbled over removing her own bra.

"Need help?" Alex offered helpfully, casting an appreciative head-to-toe glance in Olivia's direction.

Olivia opened her mouth to protest that she could do it herself, thank you very much, but quickly changed her mind. Witty banter had its place, but right now all she cared about was getting naked and into Alex's arms as quickly as humanly possible. So, instead of responding, she simply nodded.

"Let me?" Alex murmured, walking over to stand in front of Olivia, pushing the blouse off her lovers shoulders and tenderly stroking her tanned, muscled shoulders.

"How long do we have?" Olivia asked, her voice thick as Alex unclasped her bra and then pulled it off, gently touching each breast as the garment fell to the floor.

"Just long enough," Alex acknowledged, kneeling to the floor to remove the rest of Olivia's clothing.

"You're still dressed," Olivia protested as Alex helped her into the bathroom.

"Not for long," Alex promised, and her own clothes were swiftly removed after she had situated Olivia comfortably in the water. Without waiting, Alex stepped into the bathtub and sat behind Olivia.

Olivia reached for the shower gel and a plush washcloth. "Do the honors?" she invited.

"To say that it would be my pleasure," Alex said softly, "would be the understatement of the century…" She massaged the shower gel into Olivia's skin, pausing every now and then to kiss Olivia slowly and hotly.

"Alex…" Olivia murmured as she was cleansed, her voice a little wobbly.

Alex brought her arms up behind Olivia, resting her hands just above the small incision on her abdomen. She kissed and sucked at Olivia's neck, allowing her hands to roam all over Olivia's wet body. Olivia relaxed, allowing her head to fall limply back, her throat exposed to Alex's searching lips.

Olivia flexed under the warm water, and she slowly turned to face Alex, leaning forward so that their breasts brushed in soft contact. A small sound escaped Alex's throat, and Olivia responded by pressing her mouth harder against her lover's, her tongue a gentle contrast to the pressure of her lips. Alex reached around Olivia's back, clasping her hands together on Olivia's neck.

Her body pressing Alex's against the porcelain wall of the bathtub, Olivia moved her hands to caress Alex underwater. One hand cupped Alex's ass, massaging slowly and deliberately while the other played at the soft skin of her inner thigh. Rocking on top of Alex, Olivia dipped her head and caught a perfect, pink nipple between her lips.

"Oh…." Alex exhaled deeply, delighting in the sensation of Olivia's mouth on her breasts. She lifted her hips, sinking lower in the bathtub until the water covered her shoulders. A moment later, the felt Olivia's thigh between her legs; the strong hands she loved running the length of her body and then greedily pushing her legs apart. Alex acquiesced immediately, using her arms to pull Olivia's body closer to her own.

Alex closed her eyes, surrendering herself to the dual sensation of two fingers rubbing at her furiously and teeth scraping the delicate flesh of her neck. "Oh, God, Liv," she muttered, holding on for dear life as Olivia thrust her fingers in and out relentlessly, her breath hot in Alex's ear. Alex arched toward live with such force that she was momentarily afraid she may have injured them both; and then collapsed against the porcelain, her body quaking as she climaxed, the scream catching in her throat, her body limp in Olivia's arms.

Olivia gasped, kissing Alex's chest as she lay prone on top of the younger woman, oblivious to the cooling water. Alex's orgasm had been quiet but strong; and Olivia was still amazed by the feeling that rose within her as she felt Alex's muscles clenching on her hand. Slowly, she removed her fingers, her mouth never leaving the faint white scar two miraculous inches above Alex's heart.

They lay still for minutes, Alex lazily stroking her thumb in circles across Olivia's aroused nipples. Finally, it was Alex who spoke. "Bed?" she invited.

Olivia smiled in response, and Alex stood to assist her. Slowly, they toweled off. Alex helped Olivia ease onto the bed, and then gently climbed atop her, careful to keep her weight concentrated on her own arms and legs as she rubbed her body against Olivia's, delighting in the small moans falling from Olivia's full, parted lips.

Alex covered Olivia's mouth with her own, and Olivia relaxed against the mattress, allowing herself to melt into Alex's gentle caress. Alex pulled at Olivia's hips, and grinned wickedly at Olivia, who was looking at her through heavy-lidded eyes.

"What?" Olivia asked, playfully. "What've you got planned, Counselor?"

"Nothin'," Alex teased, smirking as she slowly rolled off the bed, clutching a pillow, which she placed on the floor. Kneeling, Alex pulled Olivia close to her, until her face was level with Olivia's open legs, and pulled them around her neck. She leaned forward, and began to slowly lick the moisture seeping onto Olivia's thighs, inhaling the delicious scent of desire mingled with sweat.

Olivia writhed under Alex's touch, her body responding enthusiastically to each stroke of Alex's tongue. Alex gently suckled, careful to keep her touch light as Olivia lifted her hips against Alex's mouth. She moved her hands onto the bed, where she entwined them with Olivia's, lacing their fingers as she opened her lips sucked Olivia into her mouth, bathing her with a flattened, worshiping tongue.

Alex relaxed her mouth, moving away from Olivia's clit long enough to tease her entrance and dip quickly inside her, returning to the swollen button when she heard Olivia moan and felt her hands tighten into fists at the lost contact. Olivia grunted softly as she rolled her hips toward Alex's mouth, cupping her hands around Alex's head to steady them both.

Alex tilted her head back, accommodating Olivia's efforts to make love to her mouth. She let go of Olivia's hands and used her palms to push Olivia's thighs further apart, causing the tender bud she held in her mouth to protrude a little more. She stroked at it repeatedly, and then closed her mouth around it, increasing the intensity of her sucks as she flicked her tongue steadily.

Olivia's orgasm finally hit, and Alex was momentarily stunned when a shot of sweet, sticky liquid filled her mouth and washed over her face as she released her hold. After swallowing the juices in her mouth, Alex licked Olivia's thighs clean, and then lifted herself onto the bed. "That… was… delicious," Alex murmured softly, gently rubbing Olivia's belly with her hand.

"Are you sure?" Olivia asked, obviously a little embarrassed by what had just happened.

"Of course!" Alex assured her

"That doesn't happen all the time," Olivia started to apologize. "Only when I'm really, really-"

"Liv," Alex interrupted, silencing her lover with a kiss. "I loved it."

Olivia smiled at Alex, her cheeks red with lust. "Okay," she said softly, snaking an arm around Alex and pulling her close. They still hand another two hours to enjoy each other alone, and they had earned this rest.


	33. Chapter 33

-63-

**Williamsburg, VA**

**Saturday **

Antonio's aunts had only been in town for twenty-four hours, yet Alex was beginning to feel as though she'd been stuck with them for several weeks. They were pleasant enough, and neither Olivia nor Antonio seemed to mind their constant chatter, the fact that Carla apparently had a microphone permanently embedded in her throat, or Jeannie's decision to wear shorts despite having foregone shaving her legs for years.

She had taken Antonio to the airport on Saturday morning absolutely _determined_ that she would love the women as much as he so clearly wanted her to – and as much as he seemed to be warning her she probably wouldn't.

"They're not really your kind of people," he'd cautioned.

"What's 'my kind of people' mean?" she'd countered.

He hadn't answered – probably playing it safe, she had deduced – but soon enough she had figured out exactly what he had meant. Nice as they were, Carla and Jeannie were decidedly _not_ Alex's "kind of people." By the time the four of them returned to the house, Alex's nerves were a tangled mess – why did Carla have to talk _so loud_ all the time? Why did Jeannie's laughter sound like a hundred buzz saws? When had Carla last seen a razor – and why wear shorts if you weren't going to take the time to shave? Looking at Antonio, though, Alex realized he didn't mind at all. He was delighted to see his aunts, and accepted their mirth as a sign that they were thrilled to see him, too.

Having made it through a ride back to the house that somehow felt infinitely longer than the ride to the airport, Alex opened the door to the house, and as soon as she saw Olivia flashing a welcoming smile from the sofa, she immediately felt her blood pressure return to normal.

Olivia, for her part, immediately picked up on Alex's frenzied expression and understood that her girlfriend's initial encounter with Antonio's blood family had not been idyllic. Hellos and hugs were exchanged, and Carla thanked Olivia profusely for taking the extraordinary steps she had to make the reunion possible.

"We're just as relieved to see Antonio happy and healthy as you must have been to see Alex," Jeannie proclaimed, heading to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. She selected a few items and began making herself a sandwich.

Alex made a face, and Olivia winked at her. She could tell she was going to like their houseguests, but knew that nothing got on Alex's nerves faster than poor manners.

By the time dinner had finished and Alex collapsed into bed beside her with a giant sigh of relief, Olivia was wondering how they would make it through the next 36 hours.

"C'mon," she said encouragingly, not waiting for Alex to speak. "They're not bad."

"Hah!" Alex said with a haughty laugh. "You have to be kidding me. They're… they're…" She turned toward Olivia and nuzzled her face in the other woman's neck. "They're insufferable."

"Insufferable?" Olivia asked, a small smile spreading across her face, although Alex couldn't see it. "Is that so?"

"They're _obnoxious_, Olivia," Alex said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Did you see the way Jeannie just walked into the kitchen and started opening things?"

"Maybe your warm, welcoming attitude put her at ease, and she felt at home," Olivia teased, scratching her nails softly against Alex's back.

"Oh, and she opened the Etude at dinner!!! Couldn't have gone for the Yellowtail, could she?" Alex huffed. "Not that she'd know the difference."

Olivia giggled.

"What?" Alex demanded. "What's so funny about this?"

"You're a _snob_," Olivia pointed out.

"I am no such thing," Alex sniffed.

"You _are_," Olivia argued, still smiling. "But as long as you'd adjudged _me_ good enough for you…"

"Well," Alex cautioned. "You're safe as long as you keep shaving your legs. _GOD. _Can you _believe_ Carla wears shorts with those things?"

Olivia laughed out loud. "Honey, do you think maybe you're a little bit more upset about the possibility that Antonio might choose to live with them than you've admitted?"

Alex shifted, her body tensing. "What gives you that idea?"

"I'm just thinking that if they were in town, simply visiting with no designs on raising Antonio, you'd be laughing at their…quirks… instead of deciding that they were miserable, awful people," Olivia pointed out, unsure how much truth Alex could handle in one evening.

Alex bit her tongue, tempted to ask Olivia whether the same motivations had fueled her obviously negative reaction to Nathan Hendrix. Remembing the flowers on her desk at work – the flowers about which she _still_ hadn't told Olivia – she decided to let this one go. "Maybe," she admitted, stretching her body against her lover, who hummed with pleasure at the contact.

"Maybe you should relax," Olivia suggested, running a hand underneath Alex's nightshirt, cupping her breast tenderly. Alex leaned forward and kissed Olivia tenderly, parting her lips and welcoming Olivia's tongue inside her mouth.

"Yes…" Olivia smiled against Alex's cheek once they had broken apart. Her hands wandered south and began to tug at the waistband of Alex's pajama pants. "You should _definitely_ relax…"

Alex pushed all thoughts of Carla and Jeannie from her mind as her consciousness filled with the sensation of Olivia's mouth moving past her breasts, down her ribcage, past her abdomen, and stopping at the soft, warm flesh of her inner thighs. Olivia's tongue teased her softly, and Alex was soon murmuring barely audible entreaties, rolling her hips in an effort to guide Olivia's mouth to where she wanted it most.

-64-

**Williamsburg, VA**

**Saturday **

The next day, they had decided to take advantage of the unseasonably warm afternoon and have a picnic at the nearby public park. Olivia had been entertaining everyone with colorful, yet family-friendly police stories – they were few and far between considering her beat, but occasionally there was a gem – and Alex had allowed her mind to wander back to the last night's dinner.

Carla's booming laughter interrupted Alex's stream of unkind thoughts, and she blinked her eyes rapidly, returning to the present moment. "Hmm?" she asked, inelegantly, noticing Olivia smirking at her from the other side of the blanket they had laid out on the grassy picnic area.

"I asked if you're a little sad to leave Virginia," Carla asked, her tone as kindly as it was noisy.

"No!" Antonio said, enthusiastically answering for them both.

Olivia continued to smirk. "Ready to get back to New York?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, absolutely."

"We'll be there in a few weeks," she reminded him.

He smiled brightly. "Good, because I hate it here worse than ever." He scowled.

"Why's that?" Alex asked, suspecting that the knowledge that he was soon to return to the life he had known before had made this one all the more difficult. It certainly had for her.

"I have one friend," he pointed out. "And now she thinks I'm a liar. She won't even talk to me now."

Alex frowned, her heart aching for him. She still had confidence that Angie would come around, but had hoped that it would have happened by now.

"Wanna show us your soccer skills?" Jeannie interrupted, gesturing to an empty field. Alex smiled, deciding that this was one instance in which she could be glad for Jeannie's lack of social graces.

"I can't really play soccer by myself," he pointed out, modestly.

"Maybe we'll come back soon and see one of your games…" Carla suggested as Alex's eyes went wide at the prospect of their returning for another visit.

"Antonio won't actually get to play in any games," she stated evenly. "He'll be in practice until the end of the school year."

"Do I have to stay on the team?" he implored. "I don't like it, and besides, Angie's on the team. I don't want to have to look at her all the time and remember that she used to be my friend."

Alex looked around to see four pairs of eyes on her all waiting to see how she would handle this. Great. "Give it another week," she instructed. "If Angie still hasn't come around, we can talk about it. You don't have to do it if you really, really don't want to."

Antonio looked greatly relieved, and no one's face suggested that Alex had made the wrong call. Smugly, she sipped from her bottled water.

Carla cleared her throat. "Well, I guess we need to talk about where you want to live when we get back to New York, don't we, Tonio?"

Alex fought to keep the water she was drinking from spraying across the picnic blanket. _That_ was Carla's segue? _That_ was how she was going to address the most important topic on everyone's mind?

Olivia's face registered no reaction, but her hand immediately landed on Alex's thigh, giving her a comforting pat. Alex clutched at Olivia's hand, hoping that nobody else would notice her white-knuckled terror. Antonio sat on the end of the picnic blanket, his large brown eyes moving slowly over everyone else.

"I, uh, I was kinda hoping I could live with you sometimes…" he said to Carla and Jeannie, and then looked back to Alex and Olivia. "And live you _you_ sometimes. I mean, I know I'm not really your problem anymore, but-"

"My problem?" Alex asked, her voice a horrified whisper. She let go of Olivia's hand and clasped his. "Sweetheart, you know I've never regretted bringing you to live with me."

Antonio looked relieved. "Yeah, but your life in New York is like… different…"

"Tonio tells us you're rich," Carla said, nodding.

"How rich _are_ you, Alex?" Jeannie chimed in, smiling.

Alex's eyebrows lifted, and she looked from a reddening Antonio to a highly-amused Olivia, who had wisely decided to keep her mouth shut for this exchange.

"You'll have your own bedroom," Alex said, trying to figure out a polite way to answer a most impolite question. "And you can go to school wherever you like. And," she said, her tone making it evident that there would be no further discussion of the topic, "I suppose I can now afford to set you up with your own Wii."

The most important issue settled, the group elected to leave the details for working out over spring break in New York. Antonio's faithfulness assured, Alex was content enough to enjoy the rest of his aunt's visit, and went to bed on Sunday feeling a hundred pounds lighter than she had the night before.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

**Williamsburg, VA**

**Wednesday, 5:30 p.m.**

Halfway through _Guiding Light_, to which she had developed an addiction she

planned to keep secret for the rest of her life, Olivia fell into a deep slumber that carried her through the afternoon. The loud clap of the front door slamming into place startled her into an upright position in the bed, and she stifled a moan as her hand instinctively went to her sore tummy.

Olivia reached for the remote control and turned the television off, vaguely aware of Alex's and Antonio's voices in the kitchen. Moments later, he passed by her bedroom, ducking his head in for a quick hello as he retreated to his bedroom to do whatever it was he did before dinner. Something involving Death Knights, epic loot, and dungeons.

She smiled when Alex stopped at the doorway and cast a lingering look into the room, watching her stretch. "C'mere," she beckoned, tilting her head up to receive a kiss.

Alex stepped over to the bed, happy to oblige Olivia's request. She sat on the edge of the bed and reached into her purse, producing several folded pages.

"What'cha got?" Olivia whispered conspiratorially.

"Some pictures," Alex said, unfolding the pages. Each contained a series of bullet points arranged next to color exterior and interior shot of apartments and brownstones. "I thought we could start choosing some places… you know, so we can look around while we're in New York."

Olivia frowned. She hadn't anticipated having this conversation until much later. "Already?" she grumbled, unable to hide her lack of enthusiasm.

Alex returned her frown, throwing an icy blue stare Olivia's way. After a few miserable seconds of silence, she exhaled slowly and finally spoke a single word: "Oh."

Olivia didn't understand what that meant, but she knew it probably wasn't good. "Alex," she said, already trying to think of ways to backpedal from her initial lack of enthusiasm. "I'm just, you know…I just woke up… can we, you know, just hang out a little bit before we start…" She heard herself babbling, and looked up at Alex hopefully, tossing a slightly crooked smile Alex's way, hoping it was enough.

It wasn't.

"I thought you might at least be able to pretend to be interested in where we're going to live," Alex said, folding the papers and moving to put them back into her purse.

"Wait," Olivia said, moving quickly to stop Alex. She took the papers in her hand and opened the stack. "I'm awake now," she said, not taking her eyes off the papers to study Alex's reaction. "I want to see."

Alex remained unconvinced, but she watched cautiously as Olivia flipped through the pages. Her lover's expression changed from interest to dismay, though, and after the fifth potential home, Olivia looked downright irritated.

"There's a problem?" Alex asked, her voice clipped.

"I just thought we talked about, you know, not going overboard," Olivia said, trying to keep her tone light.

"This isn't overboard," Alex said, defensively. She reached for the page Olivia was currently studying. "This is just the right size."

"It's easily six times bigger than my apartment," Olivia protested.

"The apartment that _you_ admitted wasn't big enough," Alex reminded her as her face steeled.

"When I admitted we'd need more space, I didn't mean we had to do _this_," Olivia pointed out, her index finger landing on the asking price. "I remember explicitly telling you that this would make me uncomfortable." She sighed, and tried a softer approach. "Alex, Sweetheart… you know I can't even come close to pulling equal weight on a place like this…"

"I'm not asking you to go halfsies with me, Olivia," Alex insisted. "You know it's within my means."

"Actually, I have no idea what your means are, Alex," Olivia admitted, sighing as she leaned back against the headboard. "But you have a pretty good idea about mine – and you know that I have to feel like I'm contributing, not just taking up space in _your_ home."

"How can you say that?" Alex looked incredulous. "You know I don't think-"

"It's not just about what _you_ think, Alex," Olivia said, hotly. "It's what I think, and what our friends will think."

"You suppose that people will think less of you if they observe that you're living in a new zip code," Alex shook her head. "I really expected more from you, Liv."

"You expected _what_?" Olivia felt her cheeks color.

Alex's face, meanwhile, remained cool and unreadable. "Once again, you're letting some misguided notions of pride get in the way of your common sense," she said, matter-of-factly.

"Is that right?" Olivia's voice grew slightly more forceful, and she narrowed her eyes, preparing for a fight she didn't really want to have. Her hands balled into anxious fists, gripping soft bedsheets tightly.

Alex nodded resolutely, seemingly oblivious to Olivia's mounting discomfort. "You're being very short-sighted," she pointed out.

"I…am… _not_!" Olivia insisted, wishing she felt well enough to stand up and storm off. As it was, she was stuck right here in the room. Still, she reasoned, that didn't mean she had to sit back and listen quietly while Alex pointed out everything that was wrong with her.

"You don't consider it short-sighted to give up on what we've both waited so long for because the mortgage won't be split fifty-fifty?"

"I don't know about you," Olivia spat, looking disdainfully at the list of amenities. "But what I've been waiting for has nothing to do with four bathrooms, two fireplaces, and concierge service."

"I meant being together, a place for both of us," Alex said, unwavering. "I've never seen someone so resistant to having something wonderful happen."

"Alex, are you even _trying_ to understand?" Olivia cried out, frustrated. "Is all of this just falling on deaf ears, or are you making any sort of an effort to see this my way?"

"Olivia," Alex said, testily. "Why do I get the feeling that you're always going to hold the fact that I have money against me?"

"I'm not," Olivia insisted. "Are _you_ always going to try to make me play the part of someone I'm not?"

"That's ridiculous," Alex exhaled, shaking her head. "Need I remind you that you just lost a kidney – and very nearly your life – so that we could be together? Now, the first time I want to do something for you, take care of you in a way that you can't take care of yourself, you refuse to even consider letting me do it."

Olivia was quiet, and Alex reached out and wrapped her fingers around her hand, bringing it to soft red lips that kissed it gently.

"You deserve nice things, you deserve a nice home," Alex coaxed. "I want them for myself, yes. I admit it. But can you just entertain the possibility that you deserve it?"

Olivia sighed. "I can try," she relented. "I don't know if I can ever feel at home in a place like these, Al…"

Alex was silent, her eyes never wavering from Olivia's. Finally, she spoke. "You're serious about… Queens?"

"Yeah. Is that so terrible?"

Alex raised an eyebrow, and her lips tugged downward, signaling that yes, this was so terrible.

"Maybe we're moving too fast," Olivia said, horrified by her own words, yet unable to stop their journey from her lips into the space between them. "Maybe we're just not ready to live together yet…"

Alex looked stricken, her jaw going slack. For a moment, she simply stared at Olivia, who was doing a fairly good job at pretending she had meant what she had just said. Determined not to fall apart in front of her lover, Alex smoothed out her slacks and stood, turning her back to Olivia. "I'm going to make dinner," she said, her voice clipped.

Olivia wanted to call her back, wanted to tell her that she hadn't meant it, wanted to promise to be easier to deal with. Instead, she found herself unable to speak, her voice catching in her throat as Alex left the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

Left alone in the room, Olivia fought back tears, wondering how things had gone from wonderful to completely fucked up in a matter of minutes. Her mind wandered to the moonstone ring she had tucked into her suitcase before they left New York – she had spent the last weekend trying to imagine the perfect moment to present it to Alex, and had decided to wait until they returned to New York and found the place they wanted to buy. She sadly realized that unless she was willing to bend, that day might never arrive.

An hour later, Alex had not reappeared in the bedroom to assist Olivia into the kitchen. Olivia scowled as she pulled herself to her feet. Walking was finally possible, though not easy.

The phone rang, and as soon as Olivia opened the bedroom door and entered the hallway, Antonio informed her that the call was for her. She nodded, taking the phone from his hand. "Benson," she said casually, having answered the telephone in no other way for almost twenty years.

"Hey, Liv, it's Elliot," came the familiar voice.

"El," Olivia said, glad to have someone else to talk to. She wondered briefly if she should mention her fight with Alex – there was no one on earth to whom she was closer than Elliot, but she was far from eager to clue anyone else in to the fact that anything was wrong with the relationship. She didn't get the chance to decide, though, because Elliot was quickly explaining the reason for his call.

"Look, Liv, it's not good. IAB's been up in my ass for the last few days… we all expected the investigation to be over by now… but they're probably gonna wanna sit down with you when you're back."

"Shit," Olivia muttered into the receiver, slumping against the wall. "I thought they'd reviewed the tapes."

"Well, they have. And they agree that the actual shot was self-defense." He paused, and added, "But as to why you were in Velez' hotel room in the first place…"

"Yeah?" Olivia frowned, feeling herself growing irritated at Elliot, wondering if he agreed that she had been out of line.

"Liv, listen. They think I helped you."

"What?" she gasped.

"It was a pretty elaborate set-up," Elliot said, sounding tired and nervous. "They don't think you could've planned it alone."

"Elliot, I'll tell them. I'll be back in a week, and I'll tell them."

"Yeah, I know," he said, not sounding very relieved. Changing topics, he asked, "So, how's Alex? You two having a great time playing house down there?"

Olivia opened her mouth to speak, and was interrupted by a chiming on the other side of the house. She glanced around the corner, and to her surprise, saw Nathan and Angie Hendrix standing on the other side of the door frame.

"Hope we're not interrupting dinner," he was saying, as a visibly shaken Alex politely said hello.

"Um, El," Olivia said, quickly. "I'm going to have to call you back. Someone just showed up at the door." She depressed the 'End Call' button and placed the telephone down on the kitchen counter.

"I wanted to come talk to you," Angie was saying to Antonio. He smiled at her, and she smiled shyly back. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for calling you a liar. I still want to be friends."

Antonio stepped back and beckoned for her to follow him in, and her father strode into the living room three steps behind him. "Hi, Olivia," Nathan said, smiling, watching the kids retreat into the backyard.

Olivia raised her eyebrows, offering a patently fake smile. Who the hell did this guy think he was, barging in here like this? She was glad that Angie had come to make up with Antonio, but she knew Nathan was using that as a ploy to see Alex, and it irked her to no end. "Nathan," she said, her voice bitingly saccharine. "What a lovely surprise."

"I thought if you hadn't eaten yet, I could take us to Gianni's," Nathan said, proposing the town's only half-decent alternative to Applebee's. He glanced at Olivia. "Of course, you're welcome to join us… if you feel up to it."

Olivia's blood started to boil. She could come too? If she felt up to it? _Motherfucker_… She gripped the kitchen counter, wondering whether Alex would be any madder at her if she just happened to slip and punch this smug bastard in the face.

Alex sensed the sudden shift in her partner's mood, and jumped in before Olivia could say anything. "Thank you, Nathan, but we already have plans for the evening."

"Oh yeah? What're you up to?" he asked, not-so-subtly looking around the room. Alex glared at him, and he smiled at her, clearly thinking that his charm was working. "Just trying to see where you put them," he said to Alex, who turned a ghastly shade of white.

"Where she put what?" Olivia asked, testily, no longer trying to mask her irritation.

"Well, the flowers I sent over to your office last week," Nathan said, beaming at Alex. "I never heard anything, and I wondered whether you got them. You did get them, didn't you?"

The room fell so quiet that the steady ticking of the wall clock was the only noise. Olivia glared at Alex, who in turn glared at Nathan as he beamed at her. "I'm beginning to see it'll take a little more than flowers to convince you to have dinner with me," he allowed, charitably. "I noticed the lawn needs mowing. How about-"

"Nathan, just stop," Alex said, her voice raising. "I'm not interested. Just, stop."

"Flowers?" Olivia asked, looking at Alex.

"Yeah," Nathan looked surprised by Alex's admonition. "Last week. I-"

"He sent you flowers last week?" Olivia interrogated her panic-stricken lover.

"Liv, I didn't see the point in upsetting you, I just…" Alex shifted, looking uncomfortable. Both were completely oblivious to Nathan's continued presence.

"You just thought you'd lie to me?"

"It wasn't a lie."

"Alex, you know as well as I do, there are lies of commission and lies of omission." Olivia's gaze grew even harder. "I can't believe you didn't tell me this asshole's been sending you flowers."

"Hey!" Nathan stammered, hotly.

"Shut up," Alex and Olivia barked in unison, both heads whipping around to face the unwelcome guest.

Nathan looked back and forth from one woman to the other. "Wait. Are you… wait. Are you…. Wait."

"Oh, Jesus, stop," Alex said, holding up a hand to halt his babbling. "Yes. We are. Now, thank you for bringing your daughter over to apologize to my son. Would you please collect her and leave so that Olivia and I may continue this discussion in private?"

Nathan looked at Alex blankly, blinked several times, and then rose to follow her instructions. Olivia never stopped glaring at Alex, even when Antonio entered the room to find out why the Hendrixes had left so abruptly. He quickly deduced from the women's expressions that this was not a conversation in which he wanted to be involved. Grabbing an apple, he headed into his room to wait out the storm.

Once Antonio was safely out of earshot, Olivia glowered at Alex. "What else have you been lying about?" she demanded.

"Stop it, Olivia," Alex warned, her eyes wavering. "I can't take any more of this from you today."

"Any more of what from me?" she demanded.

"This… this… vitriol, this anger," Alex explained. "This judgment."

"Oh, stop," Olivia rolled her eyes. "You don't get to pin this on me. You didn't tell me the truth!"

Alex frowned. "Aren't there some truths you've decided not to share with me?"

"Like what?" Olivia asked, quickly.

Alex narrowed her eyes, making a decision to _go there._ "Like exactly how you came to be in Cesar Velez' hotel room with a gun."

(_To be continued… soon, I promise.)_


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: Thanks for bearing with me. I know it took much, much longer than I planned to put this chapter up, and frankly, I will be surprised and delighted to learn that anyone is still paying attention. I do have an ending in mind, and it **_**is**_** close. Next up, time to get the ladies back to New York!**

**Chapter 35**

Stung by Alex's comment and its obvious implications, Olivia leaned forward on the table. "You know exactly what I was doing there," she said, fighting to keep her voice even. "I saw a chance for us to be together again, and I took it."

"You knew when you went to the hotel room that you were going to kill him, didn't you?" The words left Alex's mouth a statement rather than a question.

"I knew no such thing," Olivia protested, her eyes wide in shock. "And you can stop treating me like I'm a fucking suspect on the stand, Alex."

Alex's expression grew hard, and she turned her gaze to the kitchen window, unable to meet Olivia's eyes.

"What the hell _is this_?" Olivia exclaimed.

"Just trying to get answers, Olivia," Alex said, feigning calm. "You'll be answering them for IAB soon enough, so maybe we should think about what you'll say."

"Go over my testimony?" Olivia's expression was now as stony as her girlfriend's.

Alex said nothing, but rolled her eyes in exasperation. She was perfectly aware of how ridiculous they were both being, but had absolutely no intention of admitting the same.

Olivia sighed. She had not expected to have to explain herself to Alex, but if that's what it took, she would do it. "Look, Alex, I knew Cesar Velez was there, and I knew I wasn't going to let him leave. Yes, I knew there was a possibility I'd have to…" Her voice trailed off, a pained expression on her face. "I was hoping that I could help set him up, make the FDA's job a little easier."

"They weren't going to just let him-" Alex started.

Olivia interrupted. "They were going to let him _leave the hotel_, and how did I know he wasn't going to slip away again? They've supposedly been tracking him for years and hadn't gotten any closer to bagging him, damn it. It was a risk I took, Alex. It could have gone the other way, and-"

"And it almost did!" Alex cried, her collected expression finally crumbling as she lost her ability to stop the tears from falling. "You were almost _killed_!"

"But I'm okay," Olivia reminded her, fighting tears of her own.

"You might have died and I would never have known, Liv," Alex stared at the hands she had folded neatly on her lap. "I wouldn't have…" She closed her eyes and fought for composure as Olivia knelt in front of her.

"Alex," Olivia whispered, the name crossing her lips reverently. "You're angry about so many things, Baby – I know that." Using the table as leverage, she rose to her feet and leaned against the table mere inches from the other woman. "You have a lot to be angry about. We both do. We lost a lot." She began to stroke Alex's hair gently. "But we're getting it back now, Sweetheart. We're going to figure it out."

Alex wiped gently at her tears, and then looked up to meet Olivia's eyes. "Are you scared?" Her voice came out a choked whisper.

"About us?" Olivia asked. When Alex nodded silently, Olivia nodded as well. "Sure I am. I don't know of any other couple who were forced to spend the first several years of their relationship apart."

"I don't know if we know how to be together," Alex confessed, looking apologetic when she engaged in the decidedly unladylike action of blowing her nose on a nearby napkin. "I mean… we can't even choose a place to live…"

"Well, maybe it _is_ too soon," Olivia murmured, thoughtfully. She lifted her thumb to Alex's chin and rubbed gently. "For living together, I mean. Maybe you should get a place of your own for a little while, and I'll stay in my little tenement at least until the lease expires."

Alex laughed, and shook her head slowly. "Do you want that, Liv?"

"No," Olivia admitted, smiling sheepishly. "I don't want to let you out of my sight, Alex." She looked at Alex, and was pleased to see a smile on her lips and love twinkling in her blue eyes. "But I don't want to lose you by trying to go from having nothing to having everything overnight, either. We have something special, but it's pretty fragile right now. Why risk breaking it?"

Alex was silent for a moment, and then placed her hand in Olivia's and rose to stand beside her at the table. "Okay," she finally said. "I'm not worried – I know we'll have it all someday, and I want to make sure we're ready for it when we get it."

Olivia exhaled slowly, and placed her hand against the small of Alex's back, gently rubbing until she felt Alex relax against her. She felt soft lips against her neck, and knew the deal had been sealed.

"Alex," she said, softly, a playful smile tugging slightly at the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah?" Alex asked, still kissing softly at Olivia's throat.

"When the time comes and we know that we're ready to have it all," Olivia said, arching an eyebrow, "I'll live with you in Buckingham Palace, if that's what you want."

Alex grinned widely, and held her tight.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

**New York City, New York**

**Office of the NYPD Internal Affairs Bureau**

**Wednesday, 1:30 p.m.**

A week later, Olivia shifted her weight in the uncomfortable plastic chair that the Internal Affairs Bureau had set up in the middle of the room. Looking up, she saw the hardened features of four strange faces belonging to people who looked as though they would like nothing better than to bend her over their knees and spank her, much less take her gun and badge away.

"Detective Benson," a white-haired man with an unkempt beard said with a cough, "what I am having trouble understanding is _why_, knowing as you did that the DEA had already set up a sting operation designed to result in Cesar Velez's capture and arrest, you felt it incumbent upon yourself to sneak into Mr. Velez's hotel room and interrupt his schedule, thwarting the DEA's carefully-designed plan."

"You were hoping you'd get the chance to kill him," accused a younger, though no more friendly-looking man, this one with short red hair and reed-thin lips. "You're a vigilante, aren't you, Detective?"

Olivia breathed deeply, having prepared for these questions and more. "The DEA had been investigating Velez for years," she said, evenly. "He was under investigation when he arranged the shooting that he intended to result in the death of a Manhattan Assistant District Attorney. The fact that he was being investigated was of little comfort to-"

"So you thought you could do the DEA's job for them, do it a little better?" snickered the first man.

"No," she snapped, without intending to. "But I didn't want him to slip through their fingers again, and honestly, with the DEA's plan, I knew that was a substantial possibility. Probability. It allowed far too much movement between the hotel and attorney's office. Velez could have eluded the federal agents at any one point – and I knew that I could detain him long enough for an arrest to be made."

"How did you know that?" asked the only female agent in the room, a portly woman with a smart, though ill-fitting, suit.

"Years of experience. I'm good at what I do," Olivia answered, aware that, once again, she had just sounded far more egotistical than she had intended.

"That may well be true, Detective Benson," quipped Red. "But the fact is that a man is dead, and the goal was to capture him alive. Flipping Velez could have brought down a hundred other gangsters."

"You're assuming Velez could be flipped," Olivia said, feeling her face flush, and remembering that Huang had once told her when a person's heart rate climbed past 140, that person could no longer think straight – hence the utility of provoking such a reaction when interrogating a perp. Breathing deeply. Olivia fought to keep her own composure. "More than likely, if he'd been taken alive – and, you know, that's a big assumption. You've reviewed the plan, and you know that my analysis is correct. If he'd been taken alive, he would have retained the best defense attorneys in New York. The trial would have drug on for months, during which time God knows how many cops and federal agents would have had their names drug through the mud, with the public wondering why so many innocent people and at least one public servant had to die – and another nearly died – and why such a vast quantity of drugs made it into New York so that the DEA could try… _try_… to get useful information out of this guy." She took a breath, knowing she'd just sealed her fate either way.

"And you're adamant that you didn't go there intending to shoot him?" asked White Hair.

"I am," Olivia said. Steeling her face, she admitted, "Though I was prepared to do so if – and only if – he fired first. He did, as the audio and video taken that day confirm."

The four faces looked at one another, at Olivia, and back at one another. Finally, the woman spoke up. "Thank you, Detective Benson," she said, clearing her throat. "We'll notify you of our decision soon – this week, probably."

Nodding, Olivia stood. She lifted her jacket off the chair, left the room, and heaved a sigh of relief. No matter what happened in the aftermath, at least this part was over.

**New York City, New York**

**Wednesday, 1:45 p.m.**

Alex had anticipated that she would be anxious to hear from Olivia after the interview with Internal Affairs, but she hadn't counted on it making her so nervous that she could scarcely think straight. When Olivia called to tell her it was already over, she was relieved – even more so when Olivia suggested that Antonio join them for a late lunch from one of her favorite guilty pleasures – a sinfully delicious kebab cart not far from where Police HQ. Antonio hadn't been told how Olivia was spending her morning, and Alex knew that if Olivia wanted him around, it was because she wanted to forget the morning, not spend more time discussing dwelling on it.

"Hey, Kiddo," Olivia smiled at Antonio, messing his hair as she leaned to plant a kiss on his forehead. He was thrilled to be back in New York, and it showed. "Enjoy your sleepover?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling and trying to comb his hair back into place with his fingers. He had been nervous about seeing his best friend, Javier, after so long, worried that they might not have much left in common. To his delighted surprise, once Javier had gotten over the surprise of seeing his friend returned from the dead, their conversation had flowed as easily as though they had never been apart. "I'm kind of sad that I'm not going to school with my friends, though."

"We've talked about this," Alex frowned.

"I know. I'm just saying."

"You're lucky to be going to Dalton next year," Olivia said, backing Alex up as they walked away from the cart, each carrying a greasy sandwich wrapped in foil. "It's one of the best schools in the City."

"I know," Antonio insisted, his tone slightly annoyed. "But I'm going to play soccer in the City League, though. So I can see the kids I already know."

Alex shrugged when Olivia eyed her suspiciously. "It was a compromise," she explained airily.

Olivia smirked – she already knew that she and Alex would be making plenty of compromises themselves in the days to come. The next order of business was finding a place to live. Olivia's apartment was functional as a place to stay this week, since Antonio was dividing his time between his aunts and friends. Still, it was obvious that they needed to line something else up for their return to New York in the summer. Tapping her paper cup of soda to Alex's, she murmured, "Well, here's to compromise."

**New York City, New York**

**Friday, 4:45 p.m.**

As Friday neared its end, Olivia resigned herself to spending the weekend with her professional future still hovering somewhere overhead. "I knew they wouldn't call this week," she muttered, flopping ungracefully onto her sofa.

"It means they're not sure," Alex said, trying for the fortieth time that day to read some meaning into IAB's failure to call Olivia right away. "That could be a good thing. Casey and Elliot seemed to think they'd already decided against you, but if that were the case, we'd have heard by now." She sat down beside Olivia, and tenderly traced a small circle on the other woman's knee with her index finger. "I think the news is going to be good."

"Me too," Olivia allowed herself to admit. "Maybe I'm just not ready to consider that it won't be."

"As long as we're together…" Alex began, and stopped speaking when Olivia interrupted her with a soft kiss. Alex felt a sigh leave her lips as she leaned forward, letting her body go weak against Olivia's strong and solid form, relaxing into the comforting feeling of lean and muscled arms closing around her.

"Finding a place to live took no time at all," Olivia mused, thinking about how, after all that arguing, they had agreed on the first place they'd seen – an attractive, in no way ostentatious townhouse not far from the precinct or from Antonio's school. It was decidedly bigger than Olivia's current apartment, and the neighborhood was nicer – but it lived like a home, not a museum. They were both charmed. "Maybe that's a good omen?"

"I think so," Alex smiled, pressing their lips together again as Olivia's cell phone began to vibrate.

Olivia frowned as she reached across the table to examine the identification on her Caller ID. "IAB," she said, exhaling mightily.

Alex raised a hopeful eyebrow as Olivia flipped the phone open.

"Benson," she said, closing her eyes and steeling herself for the relief – or the blow – of a lifetime.

Alex watched nervously as Olivia listened to a voice she heard only as an occasional faint buzz. She couldn't tell from her lover's monosyllabic responses and motionless features whether the news was good, bad, or somewhere between the two. Finally, Olivia gave a small nod and thanked the caller. She flipped the phone shut, and opened her eyes slowly.

"Liv?" Alex finally asked, after almost a full minute of silence.

"I'm officially not a murderer…"

Alex grinned.

"…but I interfered with a federal investigation," Olivia said, rubbing her forehead. "And that's going to cost me a six-month suspension without pay." She shook her head slowly. "I suppose I'm supposed to feel lucky I didn't lose my job, right?"

"Yes, Dummy," Alex chuckled affectionately, twisting a lock of hair behind Olivia's hair.

"And lucky I have a beautiful, rich girlfriend who's going to make sure that I don't have to starve for the next six months?" Olivia asked, managing a small smile.

"That's right," Alex said, her full lips curling into a full-on smile as Olivia lifted her onto her lap. Alex hooked her legs around Olivia's back and nuzzled her neck as Olivia's arms stroked her sides softly.

"I do," Olivia said quietly. "I really, really do…"


	37. Epilogue

**New York City, New York**

**Six Months Later **

Olivia closed the townhouse door behind her and slung her jacket over the back of a sofa. Alex had been complaining about this habit, and Olivia had been promising to make use of the coat closet, for months. She tried to keep her footsteps as quiet as possible on her way up to their bedrom, but Alex was already beginning to stir.

"What time is it?" the younger woman mumbled against a pillow.

"About three," Olivia said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed as she wriggled out of her pants.

Alex grunted softly. "Your first day back was a forty-four hour shift," she observed. "So much for easing into it."

Olivia snickered, climbing under the covers and snuggling up against Alex, taking a moment to enjoy the thrill that passed down her spine as she pressed her breasts into her lover's bare back. Alex sighed softly, and Olivia wrapped an arm around her belly and pulled her close, nuzzling the soft, flawless skin of Alex's neck. This was one of those moments that crept up on her - moments when the very sensation of finally being with Alex, getting to come home to her every day, threatened to overwhelm her.

"So," Alex turned softly in Olivia's arms, arching an eyebrow as she looked at the dark-haired woman. "Tell me about work. Did it feel good to be back?"

"Caught a homicide and collared a teacher with homemade kiddie porn on his work computer."

"I bet," Alex groaned.

"Yeah. Sure you don't want to come back and help us send this guy away?"

Alex shook her head softly. "Not that I'm enjoying private practice," she admitted, stretching languidly. Olivia closed her eyes as the motion caused Alex's body to press firmly into hers. She chastised herself – here they were, trying to have an important conversation, and she could barely think about anything except devouring Alex.

"I also had to put up with Elliot – he's been doing more than his fair share of desk duty in my absence. On the rare occasion he's been in the field, he's spending time with John and Fin," Olivia giggled.

"Putting up with Elliot must have been the worst part of the day. Maybe you'll have to find another line to cross so you can go back on suspension," Alex murmured.

"Giving any more thought to that conversation you had with Donnelly?" Olivia asked. Two weeks earlier, the judge – and Alex's former boss – had suggested that Alex consider pursuing a soon-to-open seat on the bench. She would be twenty years younger than most first-time judicial candidates, but her remarkable story should more than make up for any concerns about her perceived lack of experience.

"I don't know," Alex sighed. "It would be a huge change for me. For us."

Olivia nodded. "You'd be a wonderful judge, Alex."

Alex laughed softly, signaling that while she was no closer to a final decision, the matter was certainly still under consideration. Her eyes darkening, she let her hands wander and squeezed Olivia's ass.

Olivia grinned wickedly – so she wasn't the only one having trouble keeping her hands to herself. Using her free arm as leverage, she lifted herself over Alex, and gently lowered her body. Alex's hips were slowly moving against her even before their lips met. Olivia savored Alex's sweet kiss, gently licking inside her mouth as Alex's slender fingers caressed her hair, recently cut short again, the way Alex liked it.

Alex hooked her fingers around the waistband of Olivia's panties and tugged, only to be surprised when Olivia pulled back and said, "Wait…"

"What's wrong?" Alex asked quickly, her heart rate still soaring.

Olivia smiled, and Alex thought she saw the barest flicker of nervousness cross her girlfriend's chiseled features. "Just… hold that thought, okay?" Olivia asked, her voice soft and not altogether steady.

"Hold that -" Alex repeated, her eyebrows creasing in increasingly-obvious irritation. "Liv?"

"It'll only take a minute," Olivia brought herself into a sitting position, leaning over to kiss Alex softly before she rose off the bed and wrapped a robe around herself.

"Good God, Liv," Alex shifted, no longer making any attempt to hide her frustration. "It can't _wait_?"

Olivia tossed her a smile as she left the bedroom. "It really can't," she answered, with no hint whatsoever of an apology in her voice.

When she returned to the room less than two minutes later, Alex had, much to Olivia's dismay, pulled a sweatshirt and pair of pajama bottoms on, and was sitting Indian-style at the foot of the bed, her hands planted firmly on her hips, scowling.

"Honey?" Olivia asked, wilting a little.

Alex was silent, arching an eyebrow in response.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," Olivia said, walking forward slowly.

Alex looked quizzical. "Okay," she said, still looking confused.

"You know, you wait and you wait for the right moment to come along, but it really doesn't," Olivia said, stopping a few feet from the bed. "Either someone's had a tough day at work, or there are decisions that have to be made, or we're running late, or I'm getting shot in the guts, or…" At this, they both tried to laugh, and failed. Olivia's brush with death was not yet something about which either of them could even feign being ready to laugh at. "…Or I'm coming home at 3 a.m. after a really hard day in the field," Olivia finished. She sighed, and slipped her hands into the pockets of the bathrobe.

"Never let it be said that our lives are dull," Alex said, wondering what Olivia was on about.

"One of the only promises that I can make you is that it will never be dull, or simple, or predictable," Olivia admitted. "It will probably always be complicated, and difficult, and unexpected. But, if you're up for it…" Looking at Alex with total sincerity, brown eyes searching blue, Olivia was vaguely aware of her own body slipping onto one knee as her left hand produced a small box from the pocket in which it had hid.

"Oh God," Alex whispered, as she suddenly became aware of what was happening. She closed her eyes for a long moment, and opened them to see Olivia still regarding her with a look of utter adoration and affection. "Oh my God, Liv."

Olivia breathed deeply, but never allowed her eyes to waver from Alex's as she propped the box open, revealing the ring she had purchased all those years before. For a brief moment, she followed Alex's gaze down to the ring, but quickly looked back at her. A momentary panic seized Olivia – she knew the ring was simple, probably not up to Alex's taste. But it was too late to turn back now.

"Alex," she said, trying with everything she had to avoid choking on the words. "Will you-"

"Yes!" Alex said firmly, cradling Olivia's face in her hands and drawing her in for a kiss. "Yes, yes, yes…"

"Alex, you didn't let me ask the ques-" Olivia mumbled a protest against Alex's lips, vaguely aware that the bathrobe she wore was being pulled off her shoulders.

"Oh," Alex said, slowing down and pulling away. "Okay. Right."

"I mean, you could at least let me do this the right-"

"Okay," Alex said, exasperation returning. "Hurry."

"Hurry?"

"Yeah. Hurry up – I want to get to the celebration sex."

They looked at each other for a long moment, before both convulsed into great, unexpected laughter – the very kind of joy and happiness that was and always had been, in both their lives, so elusive. "Will you marry me?" Olivia heard herself ask, her face pressed against Alex's hair, her lips inches from her lover's ear. "Will you spend your life with me? Will you do me that honor?"

"Of course I will," Alex said, proud of herself for waiting until Olivia had finished speaking to answer this time. "I'm going to take such good care of you."

And, smiling more broadly than she had in years, Olivia believed her.

~~~~ The End ~~~~


End file.
